Consequences of an Iron Victory
by Sofisol612
Summary: AU in which the Greyjoy Rebellion succeeds and, after getting the Iron Islands' independence, Lord Balon demands that Lord Eddard send him his firstborn, Robb, as a ward. The boy is brought up in Pyke along with Theon and Asha and, as time goes by, they develop a friendship that will bring many unsuspected consequences.
1. Eddard

With his eyes focused in the horizon, he rode north, leading what was left of his army back to Winterfell. He had already gone through that stretch of the Kingsroad once, five years before, and it was nearly impossible for him not to think about the many similarities between that time and the present.

The other time he had travelled at the head of a host, too, after fighting in a war. And he had come back to Winterfell just like now, thinking of his wife, Catelyn, and the new family he now had with her. Wondering how that baby she had written about, who had left Cat's womb when he was far away would look like.

But this time he already knew his wife, and had lived with her for four years. And he knew Robb, their firstborn, and Sansa, the adorable little girl who had learned to say "daddy" shortly before Ned left. The one he didn't know was Arya, the baby Cat had birthed in his absence.

However, the biggest and most disturbing difference concerned the outcome of the war. When he returned after Robert's Rebellion, he came back after losing almost everything he cared about (his father had died, and so had his siblings Brandon and Lyanna), but he had returned triumphant, because the war had been won. This time the opposite had happened: his brother Benjen had remained safe at the Wall, while Catelyn, who was living in Winterfell with their children, hadn't been in any danger either. But Ned had been defeated, and now he had to pay the price of the defeat.

Balon Greyjoy had demanded the independence of the Iron Islands, and the title of King of the Iron Islands. Now the Islands would be ruled according to their own laws, which had been respected in the region before the Conquest. Besides, to make sure that they wouldn't try to retake the Iron Islands, Balon requested that each of his defeated enemies send him their firstborn to Pyke, where they would be treated as wards, but would actually be hostages.

Stannis had been exempt of that condition, as he didn't have a son. Balon had lost his interest in taking Robert's child when he was told that Joffrey was only three, and he had allowed the king to keep his baby until he was old enough to be a page. But Robb had seemed to Greyjoy old enough to be taken to the Islands, and Eddard could find no excuse to keep him home.

Far away, Ned could see the towers of Winterfell appear in the distance. He sped on. He wanted to reunite with his family and enjoy the short time he still had to be with his son, before parting from him for many years. The only thing that worried him was what Cat would say.

The other time, he remembered, he had returned with a child in his arm; a child that wasn't hers. It had hurt her very much, and Ned knew she hadn't yet got over that blow. Now he would come back to her to tell her she must part from her firstborn and send him to some faraway islands, resigning herself not to see him again until he was of age. That would be worse than returning with another bastard and demanding her to breastfeed him along with Arya, Ned thought.

But it wasn't something he could help, and Catelyn was strong; she would surely understand and accept it in spite of her grief. As he drew near Winterfell he saw that she was there waiting for him, with little Robb and Sansa, who was holding her left hand. Finally he noticed she was holding a lump in her right: a cloth bundle that mantled what Ned guessed was his unknown daughter.

He dismounted and hugged his wife tightly, kissing her lips softly. He hailed Robb, picked Sansa up to kiss her forehead, and regarded his new daughter for the first time. His wife had written in her letters that she had his eyes, and the thin short hair she had grown resembled his much more than Catelyn's auburn. But the girl was asleep, so he didn't hold her in his arms, for the moment.

Ned smiled. It was so good to be back home! But his children had to wait a little to have their father's attention, yet. He had to talk to Catelyn about Robb, and then tell him about the place they would send him to. And he wanted to see Jon, too, and make sure it hadn't been so hard for him to live without his father. Robb and Sansa had a mother who cared about them, but Jon didn't, and Cat had seen to it from the beginning that nobody thought otherwise.

He chose to inform his wife of the price to pay for the lost war first, so he told her in a hushed voice that he needed to speak to her alone. Right then, Robb asked Ned to build a snow castle with him. Ned loved playing with Robb, and he hadn't seen his son for a whole year, but in that moment he had to do something else. Fortunately for Eddard, his wife took over the matter.

"Robb, your father is weary from his journey. We should leave him alone for a few hours, so that he can rest. You can play with him later. Now please, go with maester Luwin, for it is time for your lessons."

The boy obeyed reluctantly, and Ned went with Catelyn to put Sansa to bed, for it was the time for her nap, and then to her room. There he found a piece of furniture that hadn't been there when Ned marched off to war: a small cradle where she left the sleeping Arya. After that they sat on the bed and she looked at him, expectantly and somewhat worried about what he would tell her.

He had expected his wife to get angry. To shout at him for letting them take their son away from them, to insult him for failing to defend his family, or to turn away from him and refuse to look him in the eyes. Instead, when Ned was done talking, she hugged him, wetting Ned's cheeks with her silent tears. He hugged her back. She didn't want someone to blame, but someone to share her grief with and a shoulder to cry on.

They lay on the bed and stayed there, hugging each other silently, until they were interrupted by Arya, who had just woken up and started crying. Catelyn picked the baby from the cradle, sat down on the bed with the girl in her arms and breastfed her. Ned kissed Cat and went out of the room, telling her he was going to find Robb to build the snow castle he had promised.

But the boy Eddard sought was Jon. He found him in his room, playing with a wooden horse. When the father entered the room, the boy just looked up at him and remained seated, only muttering "hello, father", unenthusiastically.

"Jon, is there anything wrong?" Ned asked him, sitting by his side.

"No, Father. Nothing."

But Ned knew by the way his son avoided his eyes that he wasn't telling the truth. That saddened him, because Jon had never lied to him before. Now he seemed to have ceased to trust him due to his long absence. He wondered what he could tell the child to get him to talk to him confidently again, and in the end he decided to offer him to build a snow castle together, thinking that as they played Jon might dare to reveal what was troubling him. The boy accepted the offer.

"Come, let us go to the Maester's Tower to tell Robb. He wanted us to make a snow castle with him since I arrived," Ned said.

"Is Robb going to play too?" Jon asked, surprised.

"Yes. Why not?"

"It's just that Lady Stark doesn't like me to play with him. When we are together in the yard she always gets angry and tells me to go away. Or else she asks Robb to go somewhere with her, or she sends him to maester Luwin for his lessons."

"And don't you have lessons too, Jon?"

"No. When I asked Lady Catelyn if I shouldn't have lessons too she got angry and told me she wouldn't be the one who saw to my education, and that as long as she was in charge of Winterfell I won't have lessons. She said it wasn't her fault that… I existed, and that if it was up to her… I wouldn't be living here. And she said that… bastards like me… don't have titles… or castles… and they don't need… to know those things." As he said that his voice broke gradually, until he ended speaking in sobs.

"Don't worry: I am in charge of Winterfell now. You will have lessons with maester Luwin if you wish, and you will be able to play with your brother Robb whenever you want. Catelyn will not trouble you any more." Ned promised, hugging him.

Eddard felt guilty. It looked like his wife had mistreated Jon very much during his absence. When Ned had marched off to fight the Greyjoys, Jon hadn't learned yet the meaning of the word 'bastard'. Now he didn't only seem to understand it perfectly, but he was also painfully conscious of being one.

Ned knew that Catelyn was a kind woman most times, but she had from the beginning treated Jon as if he had chosen not to be hers. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't be better to tell her the truth, but he wasn't certain. She might get offended by the fact that he had not trusted her, and she could take revenge by telling Robert, or Jon. He didn't think that she would truly do that, but it was better not to take unnecessary risks.

Jon settled down and wiped his tears away, and they went to find Robb. He was very thrilled by the idea of building the promised snow castle with his father and brother. And Eddard didn't think his eldest son seemed surprised to see that Jon would play with him too; he just looked happy.

Maybe, then, Catelyn had not insulted Jon in front of his older brother, and Robb had no reason to think they shouldn't be playing together. Or maybe, Robb knew Ned loved both his sons equally, and he wanted them to love and respect each other, as brothers. Maybe, Robb loved his brother Jon, and he saw him as a peer. Maybe he thought that, despite what his mother might say, playing with him was the most natural thing in the world.

And as they built the castle together, Ned couldn't help but notice how happy his sons were then: together, playing in the snow and helping each other. He was also happy, because there is no greater joy for a parent than his children's happiness. Yet he was sad at the same time, because he knew that it wouldn't last. His children would be separated again soon, and a long time would go by before they met again.


	2. Robb

**Notes: I would like you to know that, though this is an AU of canon divergence and all the chapters here will be connected, the first ones will be also a little independent. This means that you may be able to skip one or two and still understand the story. However, from chapter 10 on, when the big events begin to happen, this will not hold true any longer.**

 **Also, this chapter takes place an year after the previous one, in Pyke.**

 **Robb**

With much effort, he helped Theon lift his boat and take it to the shore. It was big enough for six people to fit in it together, and it was hard for the boys to move it. The varnish made the wood shine with the midday sun they were exposed to.

Theon was excited: he had been waiting for the opportunity to use his new boat ever since his uncle Victarion gave it to him for his eleventh nameday, three days ago. But it had rained nonstop for all that time, and he hadn't been able to do it until now, when a rainless day without threatening clouds to prevent their excursion to the sea had come at last.

His friend had tried to talk his older sister, Asha, into coming with them to the new ship's maiden voyage, but she had long before lost her interest in rowing-boats, which she deemed childish, and she preferred to sail the sailboat her father had gifted her some moons ago, with Tris, her best friend. So Asha had rejected Theon's invitation, and only Robb went with him.

The little boy was glad that Theon, who had ignored him and rejected him for being "such a child" many times, finally decided to invite him to take part of his games. But he was at the same time terrified by the idea of going far into the sea, where he wouldn't be able to foothold in case he fell off the boat. His aquatic experiences in Winterfell were limited to some dips in the hot pools by the godswood, but the ponds' water was drinkable, and every time he had got into it, there had been a grown up watching. Since he had arrived in Pyke he had gradually dared to go each time a bit further into that great body of saltwater that was always moving, but he hadn't yet got beyond the point where the water reached his neck, and he wasn't especially eager to do it now.

But Robb wasn't going to behave like a scared little boy in front of Theon: the last thing he wanted was for his friend to mock him for acting like a baby. So when they got to the shore he climbed into the boat with the other boy, took an oar and willed himself to make the boat move forth into the deep, without complaints and trying to be brave. Theon didn't utter any teasing comment but the smile that appeared in his face every time he looked at him made Robb doubt his ability to hide his fears.

"Robb, you must row faster! We are turning to the right!" Theon told him suddenly.

And it was true: the boat was turning towards Robb' side, because he couldn't row with the strength and speed of his bigger friend. He tried hard to speed up, and noticed happily how the boat turned slowly back to its initial direction. When he finally managed to direct it to the open sea, he turned to look at Theon and get an approving comment for having rowed faster than him, at least for some seconds.

But Theon said nothing, and Robb realized that he had laid down his oar. The boat had returned to its initial course because Theon had stopped rowing, and not because of Robb's speeding. The boy looked down, disappointed, as the other boy picked his oar again, starting to row again, but this time slower, at Robb's pace.

Some minutes later they reached a depth that Greyjoy deemed enough, and they stopped. Each of them picked a fishing rod and they talked idly for a while, waiting for some fish to take the bait.

Robb regarded the landscape: the sea surrounding him from every side, glowing with the sun; the island of Pyke with the Greyjoy's castle if he looked back, the other Iron Islands far away at one side, and in the other one a massive and blurred shape: the rest of Westeros. Robb knew no one could see him from any of those places, and he was conscious of how small he was: an invisible dot in a boat that, in the distance, was invisible too. Robb tried to think about something else, because he didn't like to feel small, especially when he was in an environment where he didn't know how to handle himself.

After trying to catch something for a long time, and getting only a small black and yellow stripped fish that Robb fished, they decided to start back. Theon rowed alone to turn the boat until it faced the shore first, and then Robb rowed too, moving slowly but straight to the beach.

"Well, I think the sea isn't so treacherous after all. I may go a bit deeper tomorrow, so that we can swim together," suggested Robb, who had decided after their quiet excursion that he wanted to learn how to swim.

"Actually, Robb, the sea _is_ treacherous. But we wouldn't be brave if we only dared to do easy, quiet and safe things. Besides, you have much more chances to get hurt when we play and spar with wooden swords than when rowing. In fact, I have already given you more bruises tan you can count, and yet you aren't afraid to train with me. I should feel offended by that, don't you think?" Theon answered, amused.

Robb nodded, smiling proudly because his friend had included him among the "brave". He would definitely learn how to swim, and show Theon, and himself more than anything, that he truly deserved to be considered as such. A lot of moving saltwater couldn't frighten him.

"Robb, get down!" Theon shouted suddenly. Robb was going to ask him why, but his friend jumped out and sank without a word. Scared, he turned around to see what was going on just in time to see the gigantic wave about to break over him. The boat shook violently, and Robb fell with a scream.

He closed his eyes as he fell, because he knew keeping them open would only cause him pain. He held the breath he hadn't let out with his cry and kicked fiercely, trying to get to the surface. But with his eyes closed and the waves shaking him endlessly, he soon lost all notion of space and was unable to tell where the sandy ground was and where the limit between the seawater and the air he was so eager to breathe.

He started to let out the air gradually, because he couldn't stand the pressure in his lungs. He kicked harder, despairing. A wave pushed him down, crushing him hard against the sand. The blow hurt his arm, the limb in which he landed, but it also let him know he was touching the ground. Even though it meant he was as far from the surface as he could be, it also meant he knew which way to go.

Robb propelled himself with his legs, getting away from the sand and kicking as fast as he could, upwards. But he couldn't hold what little air he still had in his lungs, and he released it before he reached the surface. He couldn't help inhaling either, and the saltwater hurt his nose and throat, burning him. He stroked and kicked for his life, but it was not enough. He felt someone take him, holding his body under an arm.

He woke up coughing seawater, lying on the sand, in the seashore. His throat and nose stung, but now he could breathe. Before him was Asha, who had her hands pressed against his bare chest. Robb knew she had been performing the queer maneuvers the Drowned Men did to bring the drowned back to life: pressing the unconscious person's chest rhythmically, making him breathe until he woke up.

"Are you all right?" She asked him.

"Yes. Thank you, lady Asha," Robb answered, sitting up.

"Of course he's fine: it was just a bit of water," Theon, who seemed to be there too, complained.

"A bit of water might be enough to kill you, Theon," the girl reminded her brother.

"So? _What is dead may never die. But it rises again, harder and stronger_ ," Theon recited. "Robb could do with some danger."

"Robb is brave enough for his age. You are the immature boy who should grow up already, and stop acting like a jealous little brat when your friend almost drowns," Asha scolded him. "And it's lunchtime now, so I'd advise you to go put some dry clothes on and eat, unless you want to be hungry until dinner."

With that, Asha walked away from them until she got to Tristifer, who was walking in their direction to see what had happened, and she took him to the castle as they talked, possibly about Robb's recent resurrection.

"Let us go, Stark! Or do you want to skip lunch?" Theon, who was standing in front of him, urged him impatiently.

Robb rose quickly and followed his friend to the castle, determined not to annoy him any more than he already had by drowning. He was his only friend, and he didn't want him to ignore him again.


	3. Theon

**AN:** Again, the events of this chapter happen a year after the previous one.

 **Theon**

His training sword had barely clashed a few times with Robb's when he screamed.

"What's the matter?" Theon asked, annoyed.

"You hurt me! Look: my arm is bleeding."

Theon drew near and saw a thin streak of blood coming from a shallow cut near the child's elbow. It wasn't serious; Theon had had worse cuts training with his older brothers, before they died for the Islands' independence, and with Tris, during the short time in which he had lived in Pyke. The youth had sailed off to Blacktyde a moon before, with no apparent reason. Tristifer got on well with everyone in the family, and though he was older than Theon, he was not yet an adult, and he could have stayed in Pyke until he was sixteen, as they had planned from the beginning. He suspected Tristifer's disappearance was due to his secret relationship with Asha, of which Theon had known since he saw them kissing at the beach from a distance.

Anyway, the thing was that Tris had left, and Theon had no one to practice with but Robb, and the boy didn't know how to use the tourney swords: he had only used the wooden ones until that day. He was far from being a fit rival for Theon, who could defeat him with his eyes closed without getting a scratch (or so he believed.) But he was all he had, and he wasn't willing to lose him for such a stupid thing like that.

"Come with me, Robb. Let's fetch some water to wash that. If you want we can continue with wooden swords after, so that you don't get hurt again," he said to encourage him. The boy followed, but nonetheless he told him "I don't want to continue with wooden swords. Those are for children, and nobody uses them here. I will learn to fight with a tourney sword, like you."

Theon smiled, partly because seeing this little seven namedays old boy refuse to fight with wooden swords claiming that they "are for children" amused him. But he also smiled of pride, because he noticed that Robb admired and looked up to him.

Theon was the youngest of his father's children, and as such, he had never been a role model to anyone. To Rodrik he had only been a baby that was born when he was old enough to be part of the crew of a ship in the Iron Fleet and fight in battles. To Maron he had been a little brother, who acted as page and squire when needed. And to Asha he was the younger brother she could tease whenever she wanted, knowing beforehand that she'd get away with it. It was very annoying and depressing to know how unimportant he was to all of his family. Even his mother had stopped paying him any mind, being too dejected since the deaths of her older and favorite sons.

For Robb it would be the other way around, Theon thought. He was Eddard Stark's firstborn, and though he had a half-brother of his same age, as far as Robb had told him Jon was physically smaller and wasn't any quicker than him. Besides, the legitimate son was Robb, and he was the most important in the family. What a change it would be for him to live in Pyke, where he was the youngest, and not even part of the family!

"Fine, Robb. But you should better use armor from now on," Theon finally accepted.

"Will you use armor too?" The boy asked.

"Not me. We Ironborn don't use armor, because we fight from the sea, with our ships, and the armors wouldn't let us swim," Theon explained.

"Then, I won't use armor either. If you don't need it, neither do I."

Theon didn't bother trying to convince him: in the almost two years they had lived together, Theon had learned that when he wanted, Robb could be impossibly stubborn. Besides, he liked his friend's courage. It was a quality he respected in everyone, and in some way Theon believed Robb's bravery was at least a little related to the child's wish to imitate him.

So they got to the kitchen and asked for a water pail for Robb. He washed his cut quickly, eager to go back to the practice yard and show his skills, even though his endurance and perseverance were, in Theon's opinion, the only special qualities the boy could boast of at his young age. When he had wiped off every trace of blood from his wound and checked that it had stopped bleeding, he returned the bucket with the water that was left in it, and they went out once more.

When they got to the yard they stood facing each other, in the center, because there was no one else training at that moment and they had all the space for themselves. Theon was on guard, with his shield raised and his sword ready to block Robb's, decided to let his friend attack first.

The boy studied him carefully and frowned when he saw that Theon didn't attack, but he didn't move. Theon held his gaze and nodded, motioning for him to attack, but the child didn't seem willing to obey. Theon was starting to wonder whether he should attack first to get the fight started once and for all when it came: a quick thrust that hit his left rib, followed by another one in the shoulder.

Theon was slow to react, but when he did it wasn't very hard for him to stop his blows and make him step back, so he soon had him defending and blocking, while he attacked and cornered him. After a few minutes he accidentally hurt Robb again. The boy cried out in pain, and Theon lowered his sword, believing that the wound had put an end to the battle, for the moment. But Robb smiled and raised his, taking it to Theon's neck, where he made a shallow cut.

This needled Theon: he had given Robb the chance to hit first to encourage him, but his winning the fight was not nearly part of the plan. He was already twelve; old enough to be a squire. And he was besides the Seastone Chair's Crown Prince. Being beaten by a child from the green lands was humiliating. Theon dropped his sword hard, in defeat and frustration. He expected Robb to make fun of him and brag about his feat, as any other child would if he had just beaten an older boy for the first time. But the teasing voice he heard then wasn't the boy's:

"Robb! I see you have already managed to defeat Theon. Congratulations! My little brother is no big deal, but for a boy your age it's pretty impressive." It was Asha, who had come in the worst possible moment: just in time to see him defeated by Robb.

"Well Theon, I was hoping to challenge you when you were done with Robb, assuming you would win." Now that she was addressing him directly, her tone became outrageously derisive, getting to offend Theon. "But it seems Stark will have the honor. Do you accept, Robb?" She said, using her normal voice to talk to the child.

"Thank you, lady Asha, but I don't fight against women," Robb answered politely.

"Don't tell me you are one of those who believe we girls can't fight! That's nonesense. A strong and well-trained woman can very well beat a man. But don't worry: if you don't dare fight me yet, I'll challenge Theon. Do you accept, brother, or have you had enough humiliation for one day?"

Asha had provoked him so much he had no choice but to take up the challenge. With a smile that drove him mad his sister faced him. Theon managed to rip her clothes and he gave her some blows that were likely to leave bruises, but he ended on the floor in less than five minutes. When Asha left, leaving him alone with Robb again, he rose furiously, saying to himself that one day he would be a man grown and he would be strong enough to show his sister her place.

But for the moment, the strength he had had left him. He told Robb he was tired and wanted to be alone, and went to the beach. There he entertained himself by throwing stones to the sea, making them bounce on the water. He didn't go back until dinnertime, when his bad temper had weakened enough for him to be able to see his sister again at table without starting an uncivilized food fight.


	4. Asha

**AN:** Before you read this chapter, I would like to explain something about it.

When I began writing this fic, I wanted to write mostly about Robb and Theon, but also to give the other characters of House Greyjoy some attention, and to show what happened with the family as time went by. That is the reason that led me to write this chapter, and the one I'll post next week. You can read it if you want, but if you are not interested you don't need to, because most of the chapters in this fic are independent (though they are still connected with each other and happen in chronological order.)

That said, I hope this angsty chapter doesn't put you off reading the following ones.

Oh, and this chapter is set one year after the previous one.

 **Asha**

Robb handed her the parchment in which he had drawn the map of Westeros and where he had marked its different kingdoms, with its different ruling houses and their castles. It was just a general map, and only the great houses of Westeros were there, because there was no way she could teach the boy about all the noble houses of the seven kingdoms even if she wanted to, as she didn't know them herself. She meant to make him study further about the Iron Islands, of which she did know all the houses and their members by heart. And she would also have to study the North's nobility to teach him that too, because one day the boy was going to rule in that region, and he needed to know who lived there.

Asha sighed as she appraised her student's work. Being a child's tutor was something she had never thought she would do. She was much better fighting and sailing. It wouldn't have bothered her if her father had asked her to teach Robb how to use an axe, or to take him as a page. But this was annoying, and if she wasn't completely convinced that her father took her seriously, she would have thought he was underestimating her, or trying to show her "her place as a woman".

Even though she knew the task wasn't meant as an insult, Asha had complained to Lord Balon about it. "If you are so interested in Stark's education, why don't you write to the Citadel and ask them to send us a maester? They know everything Robb must learn, and if the boy lived in Winterfell he would be taught by one of them."

"I will not call a maester from the Citadel. As far as I know, they are all useless, incapable to cure a simple wound caused by a finger-dance game. Besides, the Citadel is in the Reach, and those who study there are from the greenlands. We Ironborn don't need that people." Her father had answered.

Asha hadn't insisted, because, if there was a man she respected, it was her father. Besides, the matter of maesters and their relation with his brother Urrigon's premature death was one of the few taboos they had in their family. So, instead of pressing him, Asha had suggested taking Robb to Ten Towers, where he could be tutored by the Reader of Harlaw. Again, Balon Greyjoy had refused, saying he wanted Lord Stark's heir in Pyke. And in the end, Asha had accepted the task her father imposed her.

Back to the present, the young woman saw that the assignment her pupil had done was acceptable, though his handwriting was barely legible. She would have to make him practice his calligraphy, she thought.

"This is good, Robb. But there is something missing."

"What is it?"

"The Iron Islands, of course."

"But I drew them! They are here, don't you see them?" Robb protested, pointing them.

"Here I see many misshapen stains, and the words 'Iron Islands'. But which one is Pyke? Which one is Harlaw? And why is Old Wick as big as Great Wick?"

When the boy stared at her blankly, she told him to correct the mistakes she had pointed out. Robb seemed irked, but he obeyed all the same. Asha was already sixteen namedays old, and it was probably the age Robb's mother had been when he was born. Maybe, she thought, that was the reason why he took her so seriously: she was an adult, and not a peer, as Theon was for him.

As soon as Robb had finished making a passable drawing of the Islands Asha released him at last. He ran away, possibly to find out if Theon wanted to play with him, and she went to her mother's room. Alannys had been deeply upset by the deaths of her older sons, and she hadn't yet got over her loss. Lord Balon hardly ever paid her any mind, and Theon was too immature to understand her, and he was somehow angry at her for her apparent lack of interest in him. Asha was the only one who seemed to care about her and kept her company once in a while.

She found her seated on a chair, working on something that looked like a pair of silken gloves. Her mother was good with needlework, and she had taught Asha to sew when she was little, but she had never shared her mother's interest in feminine arts and ladylike activities.

"Good morning, mother," she hailed her, taking a seat next to Alammys.

"Good morning, Asha. How are you?"

"Fine, I guess. Robb hasn't yet pretended to have a headache to avoid my lessons, so I think I'm not such a terrible teacher," she laughed. "And you? What are you sewing?"

"I am making some silken gloves for you, child. They will be comfortable, delicate and black, with golden details. The colors of your house, so that you can keep them always with you, and remember them," her mother answered with a tender smile, looking at her with her bright and moist eyes.

"But mother, I will never forget my house, don't you know it? I have lived all my life in Pyke, I see my house's banners fluttering over our castle and the Iron Fleet's ships every day, and the words 'We Do Not Sow' are so familiar to me that they could very well have been the first ones I ever said. It's very kind of you, mom, but you have no need to worry about me forgetting that I'm a Greyjoy, because it won't happen," Asha tried to reassure her.

"Child, you are worthy of your surname, and you make all our family proud, but you are a girl. How can we be certain we will not lose you when your father marries you off, and you move to your husband's lands, away from us?" Her mother voiced her concern.

Asha didn't know what to answer to that. She had always been self-confident, and she was positively convinced that her skills weren't in any way lower than men's. And most of them had learned to respect her as a warrior and sailor. Many treated her with the same freedom and trust with which they talked to each other, and she was proud of it. But deep inside, Asha knew that, being a woman as she was, it couldn't be like that forever. Her father would find her a husband sooner or later, and she would have to leave Pyke, and change her surname for his. She would be expected to bear children and, as likely as not, her husband would get jealous because of her relaxed and provocative behavior with other men, or he would be ashamed of having a wife who was as successful a sailor and fighter as him, and he would lock her in a tower, taking her freedom away from her. Just thinking about that got her down, but she wasn't going to share her insecurities and worries with her mother; she was already worried enough without her help.

"I will not let them take my identity away, mother. If I have to get married, I will always remember that my house is the one in which I was born, and that it will always go before my husband's in my priorities. And I will fight if I need to, as I have always done, for what matters most to me: my freedom. I won't lose myself, and you won't lose me," she finally decided to answer, getting her confidence back and comforting her concerned mother.

"It's good to know: that you won't go away. I don't think I could bear it. I cried until I ran out of tears when I heard about Rodrik, and I wanted to die when I found out about Maron's death." She lowered her eyes as if she was ashamed of herself before she kept talking. "Sometimes I dream of them, you know? I wake up, and I remember I won't see them again, and I can't find a reason to get up. Other times I forget what happened, and I go down to the practice yard, to see them train. Once I found Theon there... and I asked him... whether he had seen them... And he stared at me as if I was... mad. Only then... did I remember it." In the end of her story she broke off and started sobbing, as tears ran down her cheeks.

Asha was shocked because, though she knew very well that the deaths of her sons had been devastating for Anannys, she hadn't realized the extent of the damage she had suffered up to that moment. She hugged her mother tightly, holding her firm and tenderly as she cried on her shoulder, until she stopped sobbing. Finally she helped her get to her bed and got her some sweetsleep so that she could sleep easy, thinking that it was the best thing she could do, for the time being. She tried to settle her down, repeating that everything was fine and there was nothing wrong with her every time she asked her if she thought she was mad.

Asha really didn't know how sane her mother was now that she had confessed her that, but just thinking that she could really be mad horrified her. Seeing the strong and cheerful woman who had loved and looked after her when she was a child in such pitiful state saddened her greatly. After a while Alannys took a deep breath, closed her eyes and kept quiet. Asha closed the curtains to prevent the sunlight from disturbing her, kissed her mother's forehead and sat on a chair beside her, waiting for her to fall asleep.

In the meanwhile, she wondered what she should do. She couldn't just leave her there and do nothing to help her. Maybe she should talk to somebody about it. But, who would help her? Theon would certainly be more puzzled than her, and her father didn't seem very interested in her wife's grief. Ironmen were strong, and they laughed about pain. They weren't concerned by women's tears.

Asha thought then of what she had just discussed with her mother. Alannys had shared her concern about Asha forgetting her family when she got married, and she was asking her always to remember her house. She had thought at the beginning that her mother's fears came from the painful experience of losing two sons, as that was what her mother had intimated. But, what if she had wanted to say something else, without even noticing it? Asha believed it was quite likely that Alannys missed the home where she was born, and that after so much loss she might like to go back to Ten Towers and meet her siblings again. She would probably feel more comfortable and cared about there than in Pyke.

After checking that her mother's breathing was deep and her eyes were delicately closed, she went stealthily out of the room. She picked some ink and parchment and went to her room, where she sat down to write a letter to her favorite uncle, Rodrik Harlaw, to ask him to invite them over to Ten Towers.

She smiled, realizing that now that she had a plan, she was again the same Asha as ever: energetic, carefree and confident. If she was lucky, nothing and nobody would make her change.


	5. Alannys

**AN:** Again, this chapter happens about a year after the last one.

 **Alannys**

Sitting at her dressing table she looked into the mirror. She was dressed in an elegant black gown, as black was the color she had been wearing for the last four years, and she had a pearl necklace on. Her hair was short, so she had no need to tie it back. She had begun keeping it that way since it started to gray, some time ago.

She was elegant, and relatively pretty, considering that she had never been particularly beautiful, and that she was already forty three: age in which the hair color faded and wrinkles marked the face. It was also the perfect age to have grandchildren, but that couldn't be. Her eldest sons, who would now be old enough to have children, were no more. Asha was a woman grown, but she wasn't married or even betrothed, so she couldn't expect anything from her. And Theon was now fourteen namedays old; still a boy. Alannys doubted that she would live long enough to hold her first grandchild in her arms.

She sighed, trying to drive those horrible thoughts off her mind. It would do her no good to mourn for something that couldn't be changed. She rose and exited her room, and then went to the castle's gate, where her family and Robb, Balon's little ward, were waiting for her. She smiled at them, to let them know she was fine: her children were very worried about her of late. Theon smiled back at her naturally, but Asha didn't seem so sure.

"Well, now that we are all here, we can go to the stables to pick the horses. It will be a short ride, so we'll share. I don't mean to make a parade out of our journey to Lordsport. Besides, Victarion will have to bring them back afterwards, so the fewer they are the better," King Balon announced. "Alannys, you shall go with Asha. I will take Theon with me, and my brother will ride with Stark." That said, he started walking towards the stables, expecting them to follow.

Victarion was already there, with the horses ready: a small brown mare for the house's women, a grey horse for Robb and himself, and a great black stallion for the king and his son. Asha helped her mount and then she climbed on and set off. The ride to the harbor took them a bit longer than an hour's trot.

When they got to the port they got aboard the Black Wind. It was a new ship they had had built for Asha, and she had asked to take the family in it so that she could show it to her uncle Rodrik. Her father had accepted gladly, because he was proud of his daughter, and he wanted her to be seen as the iron woman she was, captaining her own ship. Alannys was proud of her too, and she was sure she would miss her. Because, though her family would stay in Ten Towers just for a fortnight, to celebrate Rodrik Harlaw's fortieth nameday, she was going to stay and live there, her daughter had told her.

Harlaw was near Pyke, the sea was quiet and the weather favorable, so the trip took less than a day. Her brother Rodrik went personally to meet them in the shore. "Welcome to Harlaw, Your Grace," Rodrik greeted her brother-in-law with a bow.

"Thank you for your invitation, lord Rodrik. And I wish you a happy nameday," he answered.

"Thank you, Your Grace. Sweet sister, how are you?" He addressed her then.

"I'm fine, little brother. I hope you don't mind my presence in Ten Towers," said Alannys humbly to her brother.

"Nonsense! You have always made for better Company than Gwynesse, and I don't complain about her living with me. However, I would appreciate it if you didn't claim Ten Towers for yourself for as long as I'm alive," he said, half-joking. After that he turned to Asha, somewhat playfully. "Is this my niece? The captain of the famous Black Wind? And what happened to the little girl who played with rag dolls?"

"And what happened to my uncle? Where is the Reader of Harlaw, who didn't leave his books even to use the privy?" Asha teased him back.

"I see my niece is a bold girl! Well here is the Reader of Harlaw: I haven't changed at all. I have only left my books in Ten Towers because, if it happened to rain, I have no wish to ruin them," he replied. After that he looked at Theon and exclaimed "And here is Theon! Do you remember your uncle?"

"Yes, I do. You came to Pyke when Rodrik turned sixteen, and you stayed with us for some time. You taught me to read," the youngest Greyjoy recalled.

"Quite so. It's been such a long time since then! Surely _you_ are about to turn sixteen now."

Theon smiled, proud to be considered older than he was. The boy was fourteen, but he was relatively tall and strong, and he could perfectly pose as a youth of sixteen. His face, however, was still that of a boy, soft skinned and without the typical facial hair of grown men. Rodrik's eyes then found Robb Stark, and he frowned.

"And who is this redheaded boy? Alannys, you didn't tell me you had another child. What is his name?"

"He isn't my son, Rodrik. His name is Robb Stark, and he is Balon's ward. His father is Lord Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," she informed him.

"Rightly so! I was wondering why he didn't look at all like you. But he seems to be a strong boy, and he doesn't appear to feel sick, as most greendlanders do after traveling by ship. Tell me Robb, do you like the Iron Islands?" Rodrik asked the child.

"I don't know: so far I have only been to Pyke, and I think I like it. I like swimming in the sea, boating and playing with the sand. But the place itself, I think it lacks something," answered the boy shyly.

"What is it?" Rodrik asked, curious.

"There are no woods in the island. There are no trees; I have hardly seen some small plants."

"Well, the Iron Islands have never been a particularly good place for trees. Besides, as you surely know, the Greyjoys don't sow," the Reader informed Robb. Then it started to drizzle, and Harlaw urged them to mount the horses he had brought for them, and to follow him to Ten Towers.

The days that followed their arrival went by without any important event. Alannys found her older sister, and realized that she was having a harder time than her getting over her loss. Gwynesse hadn't had children, and her husband's death had left her with nothing. Now she held on to Ten Towers, claiming that it should be hers because she was the eldest of the Harlaws.

Rodrik had lost, just like Alannys, two sons in the Greyjoy Rebellion, but she saw no signs of that in his appearance or in his behavior. His demeanor was the same as ever: generally quiet and more inclined to be serious than to make japes, but he didn't lack energy, and there was a kindness both in his face and in his voice that told her he wasn't a dejected man, but one who had overcome his life's tragedies.

The boys spent most of their time exploring the rocks by the sea. Asha was with the adults more often than not, either talking quietly, or taking walks on the beach, or training with her uncle and father. Sometimes she went with Rodrik to the library, maybe to read, or maybe to have fun by teasing her uncle for a while. She also joined Alannys a few times while she embroidered.

On Rodrik's nameday they had a feast, with ten courses and singers who played music while they ate. All the houses of Harlaw were invited, and Alannys talked with everyone that night. She was not very fond of parties, but having one every once in a while lifted her spirits.

A week after the feast, her family sailed back to Pyke. She parted with a kiss from Balon, the man she had sworn to love and be loyal to before she even knew him. She parted from Robb, who had got many a tender smile from her despite not being her son. She kissed Theon's forehead, thinking that he was the only son she had left and feeling guilty for not being a better mother to him. And she hugged Asha, the daughter who had always been by her side. She was going to miss them very much, but she didn't allow herself to cry in front of them.


	6. Aeron

**AN:** again, this chapter takes place about a year after the last one.

 **Aeron**

The youth knelt on the sand, as the priest told him, and Aeron poured the saltwater of his flagon over his face. The boy closed his eyes until the water stopped dripping, and then he looked at him, expectant.

" _Let Theon your servant be born again from the sea, as you were. Bless him with salt, bless him with stone, bless him with steel_ ," Aeron prayed.

It was the most common of the Drowned God's blessings, and it could apply to nearly every situation, but it was mostly used to bless young men who came of age, or boys who marched to war for the first time. This time, Aeron was blessing his nephew because he was going to join his uncle Victarion in a voyage to the Free Cities for the first time. Aeron had his doubts about the boy, who was barely fifteen and not especially mature. But it was past time that he had his first plundering experience, considering that he would soon be old enough to be the captain of his own ship. So, instead of voicing his opinion about the lad, he agreed to bless Theon before the rest of the family.

His nephew, who was still kneeling and looking at him, recited " _What is dead may never die_."

" _What is dead may never die_ ," Aeron confirmed. " _But it rises again, harder and stronger_."

Then, Theon rose, marking the end of the "ceremony". King Balon approached his son, pleased, and Victarion followed him. Now he was ready to travel to far places, raid cities, capture ships, rape women and more. Of course, Aeron knew that the Drowned God's blessing wasn't needed for that; Euron did it perfectly, and he made fun of religion openly. But, in his opinion, only the godly men should be allowed to do such things.

"When I do my first trip, will you bless me too?" A child asked Aeron suddenly.

The drowned man turned to look at Robb Stark. His clear blue eyes and his bright auburn hair made the boy stand out as an outsider in the family. But Aeron knew him since the child had got to Pyke, and the way he spoke, his general behavior and his admiration for Asha and Theon revealed that the little boy was willing to do almost anything to become an ironman like them.

"I can only bless those who believe in the Drowned God, boy. You were born in the North, where the gods have no names and live in the woods," he told the child.

"But I live in Pyke now, and I believe in the Drowned God. Please, Damphair! Tell me what I must do to get your blessing," Robb begged.

"We Ironborn submerge our children in seawater when they are babies, surrendering them to our god. I can make you a drowning ceremony, if you wish, and convert you to the Drowned God's faith," Aeron suggested then.

"That would be a terrible idea, uncle," Asha intervened, as bold as ever when it came to speak her mind. "What would Lord Eddard Stark say is we brought him his son back converted to our faith? He would never forgive us, and he would possibly attack the Iron Islands in revenge, after executing Robb with his House's ancestral sword, or at least disowning him and sending him to the Wall."

"My father would never do anything like that," Robb said, offended. "He doesn't kill people without reason. And there is nothing wrong in serving in the Wall. My uncle is in the Night's Watch, and he is an honest and honorable man."

"If the boy wants his drowning ceremony, go on, Aeron," Balon commanded. "I don't think Lord Stark will attack us: we all know how the other war ended."  
Stark smiled when he heard this, and Aeron told him to come near him. He did so, and he knelt facing the sea as Theon had.

"Submerge your head, Robb," the drowned man instructed him. He obeyed.

Aeron held the boy's head for some time to make it stay under water. Eventually he let him out again, and he took a deep breath. In ceremonies with newborn babies the children weren't normally submerged for more than a couple of seconds, but Robb was already ten namedays, and it seemed to Aeron that making him hold his breath for half a minute was just fair.

Then the Damphair recited the blessing he had said for Theon some minutes before, while Robb listened attentively, excited. When it was his time to say his part, he spoke loud and clearly, and his voice was that of a proud and self-confident child.

" _What is dead may never die._ "

" _What is dead may never die, but it rises again, harder and stronger_."

And Robb rose happily, ready for Theon's pats on the back, and Asha's hug. Because, though she had pronounced herself against converting the heir to Winterfell, she seemed to have found some religious fervor that had moved and cheered her with the act. Balon and Victarion also congratulated the boy.  
When they returned to the castle for lunch, they discussed about the time and place of the first trip of the heir to the Seastone Chair. Balon suggested a short one to Braavos, where they could buy products from the Free Cities at much lower prices than in the Islands or Westeros. He warned Victarion that if he meant to raid the city, he shouldn't do it with the kraken's banner high, because he wasn't particularly interested in starting an unnecessary war against Braavos. Robb asked to take part on the excursion as Theon's squire, but he wasn't allowed to.

"You are too young for this kind of trips, Robb," Theon said. "I will take you in a couple of years, when you are older."

The little one insisted, but he could not always get what he wanted, and this was one of the frustrating times he had to face that fact. Aeron wondered if Stark wanted to captain a ship someday. It was very likely, as he had been living in Pyke since he was very young, and all his possible role models were captains, or would be captains soon. Was Robb aware of the fact that he would only live in the Iron Islands until Joffrey Baratheon, a much more valuable hostage, was sent to Pyke? Did he know that by the time he was old enough to captain a ship he would be back in Winterfell? And that even if he stayed for more time, nobody would trust a longship of the Iron Fleet to a northener like him?

Evidently he didn't know, and he was bound to be greatly disappointed when he found out. Aeron knew that the boy would never be a kraken, because he had been born a wolf, and that was something that couldn't be changed. He could get used to the Iron Islands and learn to swim in the sea, but he wasn't and could never be a Greyjoy. It was not his business, but he hoped Robb Stark could fit in with his blood family when he reunited with them.


	7. Robb II

**AN:** First of all, I would like to thank Magnus374 for taking the time to review each time I post a new chapter. It is great to know that there is somebody out there reading, and liking, what I write!

I also want to apologize for taking so much time with this chapter: I have been in a holiday trip the last 2 weeks and didn't bring my laptop with me to write. The next one will be finished sooner, I promise.

One last thing: as usual, the events of this chapter occur about a year after the previous one.

 **Robb**

"Take it," Theon said, giving him the axe. "I will let you start, as it's the first time you play."

Robb took it and moved several steps away from Theon. Then he examined the weapon he held in his hand quickly and on the sly. He was expecting it to have no cutting edges, as the tourney swords, so he was very surprised when he found out it was sharp. He peeped at Theon and saw him smiling: he was probably amused at Robb's insecurity.

He lowered his eyes, trying to avoid Theon's, and took a deep breath to encourage himself. Then he raised the axe and threw it to his friend, who caught it in the air with a swift movement. With the smile that seldom left his face he threw the weapon back to Robb. It was a low pass, and he preferred to leap over it. He picked it up again and threw it to Theon, who also decided to jump it and then threw it back at Robb.

They already had a rhythm to follow, and they wouldn't stop until one of them lost. It was a bit slower than most finger dances Robb had seen before, because it was his first time and he still had to get used to it. But he was doing fine, and if Theon wasn't impressed, he was at least pleased by his skills in the game, because he seemed to be having fun.

They threw it at each other for some minutes, until the game ended abruptly, with an event similar to the one the game was named after. Robb screamed as loud as he could, and then laughed out loud in order to stop shrieking. He had once heard Victarion say that Ironborn laughed at pain, so it seemed to him a good alternative. But Theon's baffled face showed he didn't agree with his uncle's notion.

"Robb, are you well?" His friend sounded worried.

"Yes, Theon. I think I've lost a finger, but that's not big deal, or is it?" He answered, making light of it.

"Come on! I haven't cut you any finger; I can still see all five of them in your hand! But you got a very deep cut. I think I've never seen so much blood pour out from a single place! Come here, you need to clean that now, and see if you can save yourself."

"Save myself? Wasn't this just a game?" He asked then, suddenly concerned. "Nobody dies for playing the finger dance, or do they?"

"Normally nobody dies, but you can get a bad cut and it can get infected, and the treatment is awfully painful: with fire and saltwater," Theon explained, more troubled than he had ever seen him.

After cleaning his wound and checking that the blood flow had decreased considerably, he decided to bandage it with a shred of old but clean cloth, until the cut scarred. When he finished he sat on an armchair near the hearth, next to Theon.

It was a stormy afternoon, and they could not go out to do anything interesting. Now that Robb was hurt they couldn't play anything interesting inside either. They sat in silence, thinking of something to do, until Theon asked him if it had stopped hurting.

"Almost. It still hurts a little, but I am now too old to whimper for a cut I got playing, don't you think? You told me no one has ever died for dancing the finger dance."

"I told you that _normally_ nobody dies, but there were people who did. And there were many men who actually lost their fingers dancing."

"But, if this game is so dangerous, why do they play it?" He asked, horrified.

He could understand men who fought and sacrificed their lives for love, honor, family, and other such things; he was willing to sacrifice his own, if it ever came to it. But to risk such pain and danger for no reason, and having as a foe a friend that wishes you no ill, was something that made no sense to Robb. Until the moment the axe cut him he had been certain that it was just a game, and that was why he had accepted to play. Now he realized he had no idea what it was all about.

"It's supposed to be fun: you play with your friends, dance at a fast pace challenging those who play with you, you throw the axe and try to catch it. You make japes and tease the others, trying to confound them and take them unawares. You laugh at the loser and boast when you win, showing that nothing scares you, and that they can't affect you even by throwing an axe right to your face," he replied, back in his usual arrogant and amused tone.

"So that's what it's all about? Is it a competition to see who is the best fighter? And the bravest?"

"Sort of. But more amusing. It's just a game." He stayed silent for a while, watching the glowing fire. After a long pause, he spoke again. "My father told me he will have a ship built for me, and that it will be ready by next year. You will be twelve then: old enough to come with me, if you wish. Would you like to travel in my ship next year?"

"Yes, of course," said Robb. He was thrilled by the idea, but he thought it was better not to let it show so much. Theon already knew that Robb admired him; he didn't want to give him reasons to be more conceited than he already was.

"That's great! You will be my squire, then. I will teach you everything you need to know about ships, and you will be by my side, helping with whatever I need. And when the time comes, you may have your first battle experience!"

The idea made Robb smile. He knew battles were dangerous and bloody, but he had been training all his life to become one of those knights of shining armor who fought for righteous causes and rescued maidens, or the captain of a great ship, strong, powerful and able to plunder any city and defeat any foe. He had been listening to songs about knights even before he had learned to read, and he had lived among captains of ships and fleets since he arrived in Pyke. He was thrilled to get an opportunity to participate in a battle at last.

"I don't know about you, but if we stay much longer sitting here and watching as the fire in the hearth goes out, I will die of boredom," Robb complained after some minutes. "Can't we play some game or something?"

"With your hand strapped up, the only thing we can play is Come-into-my-castle. And I pass."

Robb took his bandage off and looked at him, smiling. "What about now?"

"Now, I think you are ready to play and fight… a pillow-fight," Theon almost mocked him.

Robb picked one of the cushions that were on the armchair, smashed it in his face, and then he ran away.

"You want to play? You will see, Stark! When I catch you, I will cut all your fingers off, starting with the tiny one between your legs!" He heard Theon say as he stood up and ran after him.


	8. Theon II

**AN:** I apologize for my lack of skills in writing action scenes, but that is admittedly not my thing. I hope you are not too disappointed.

Again, this is a year after the last chapter.

 **Theon**

The wind hit him in the face and made his hair wave. The sea shook and waved all around him, and the _Sea Bitch_ (as he had chosen to name his ship) joined in the swaying of the waves. Yet this didn't bother Theon, who felt as comfortable there as he would feel on land. Or even better, because here he was the highest authority; the king of the ship.

It was hot and all the men were sweated because they were in the south, journeying to the Summer Islands. If they were lucky they would be able to plunder part of the city, take some wine, some of the special bows that were exclusive of the Summer Islands, a couple of _thralls_ and, if he found a girl that was attractive enough and who could speak the common tongue of Westeros, he would take her as his first salt wife. And if he didn't, he could still have some fun with no need of getting married.

"Look, Theon! There's a merchant ship coming this way!" Robb exclaimed.

Indeed, a longship from the Summer Islands was drawing near, sailing in their opposite direction. It was a ship used mainly for commerce, and it was not specially prepared for an attack. Theon looked at his friend, who smiled with excitement. Robb had been waiting for the moment to attack ever since they set sail, almost a moon's turn ago. _And why not?_ Theon thought. Boarding a merchant ship before disembarking in the isles didn't seem like a bad idea.

Raising his voice to sound loud and commanding, he told his men to approach the other ship and take it. This thrilled them, and they rushed to obey him with a speed they had never used before when it came to comply with his commands. Theon smiled and unsheathed his sword. He had always preferred the bow, but it was better to fight in close combat this time, because Summer Islanders were easier to defeat in that way.

He heard Robb pick a sword from behind him. He meant to fight, it seemed. But even if the men in the other ship were not ready to fight, they would surely be grown men, and many of them would be armed nonetheless. It was dangerous, and Robb was still a child.

"Robb, wait! I need you to cover me while I capture the other ship. Take my bow and aim at anyone who tries to kill me. I trust in your aim," Theon commanded him, handing him his favorite weapon.

Now he could be sure that Robb was not going to put himself in danger, and that he wasn't going to get hurt either, because Robb would be protecting him. But the best thing was that his friend would not feel offended, as he was going to fight, in a way, and he would believe he was performing an important task.

Theon waited for his men to bridge the gap between the ships with a wooden plank and then he walked on it to the other vessel. His crew followed, shouting battle cries and starting the attack.

He didn't want to kill many people, but just enough to force the ones who stayed alive to surrender. Theon began to fight with one of the armed men who were defending the ship. His foe knew how to fight, and he blocked Theon's blows deftly. The fight was even, and though Theon tried to pierce his armor and defeat him once and for all, he couldn't find the way to take him unawares. He was focused on this opponent when, suddenly, he heard a man crying a foreign battle cry from behind him. He turned and saw that it was one of the men from the Summer Isles, and he was about to pierce his neck with a sword.

He had no time to react and he thought he was going to die right there, but then, just in time, an arrow pierced the attacker's throat, and he fell dead without hurting Theon. However, the danger was not over: taking advantage of the moment's distraction, the guard who had been fighting against him lounged, forcing him to step back. Now it was Theon the one who blocked, while the other one attacked. He strove to increase his speed and attack again, but he could only accomplish this at times.

Finally the other one reeled with a shriek, losing his balance and focus for a second. This was enough for Theon, who put an end to the man's life with just one more blow. Then he looked at him more closely, to see if there was something valuable in the defeated warrior's clothes. He found a sort of golden bracer with inlaid rubies and took it. But then he saw something that stopped him: the man had an arrow in his leg. Theon was certain it had been shot by one of his crew, because most islanders were too good in archery to accidentally shoot one of their own, and he was also certain that there was only one person in his crew fighting with a bow.

He saved the bracer in his pocket and looked around for a new opponent. There were few armed ones left, but he found one all the same, and he attacked him non-stop, making him step back. A minute later he managed to leave him bleeding with shallow wounds, laying on the deck and begging for his life.

Theon granted him his wish and asked him his name, but the answer the islander gave him was unpronounceable for him. He asked him then if he could speak in the common tongue of Westeros, and he nodded. Theon offered to let him live in return for him becoming his _thrall_. When the warrior accepted, Theon explained him briefly what being a _thrall_ implied, and the differences these had with slaves. He told him he would have to be part of his crew from that moment on, and that he would be forced to serve him. The man agreed to his terms without complaints, admitting his defeat, and Theon left his new servant cleaning his wounds. He sought out Robb, who had just arrived on the deck.

"Robb, look at the prize of your first battle!" He exclaimed, giving him the bracer.

"What are you talking about? You got it; it belongs to you."

"You have defeated its owner with an arrow. You have paid the iron price for it. It's yours."

Robb smiled, proud and surprised, as he took his prize. Theon told him he could take whatever he liked from the other man he had killed, too. The boy examined the fallen warrior and found a silver ring he decided to keep.

Theon would keep all the ship's goods, and his new servant's belongings. This included a bow from the Summer Isles, which pleased him very much. Smiling of pride because of his new acquisitions he approached his crewmen. Many were fighting for the only three women who were on the ship, possibly relatives of the defeated captain, who had been killed in the fight. After learning that the only one who was young and good-looking knew scarcely a word of the common tongue he decided that he wasn't that interested in them and told his men to settle the matter with a "pissing contest". The three men who reached furthest would get the women. They seemed to agree with the idea and started playing.

Once the contest for the salt wives was over, Theon commanded them to resume the voyage to the Summer Isles. Now they had another ship, and a great shipload of palm wine to take to the Iron Islands, but he wanted to go on and see if he could find something else too. He left one of his men in charge of the new ship, and some others to help him in case its surviving former crewmen rebelled against its new owners. Then he returned to the _Sea Bitch_ with the rest, ready to continue the journey. That night he allowed his crew to celebrate and feast on the wine they had got, but he ate alone in his cabin, with Robb, who was his cupbearer and squire.

"I wish I could be a captain, like you," Robb said suddenly, as they finished their supper.

"You are still too young to be a captain. For a boy of twelve, having killed two men is more than enough. But when you are older, I think you could be."

"But I am not ironborn, like you. Victarion wouldn't let me be part of the Iron Fleet," the boy objected, drinking some of the palm wine they had opened that night to celebrate their small conquest.

"And who says you must be part of the Iron Fleet to have a ship? Have you forgotten what Asha taught you about the history of the North? The Starks used to have ships, and there was one who loved sailing."

"Yes, Brandon the Shipwight. But, do you think I will be able to build a northern fleet as he did?"

"Mayhaps. And if you can't, that wouldn't be a problem, either: I can get a ship for you when you get older, if you never get to build your own fleet. It won't be of the Iron Fleet, but it will be yours and, as you will be the captain, you will be able to go wherever you wish with it."

"Thank you, Theon," said Robb, pleased. He sipped some more wine.

"You are welcome, Robb. Now you should better stop drinking and go to sleep. With the wine and the ship's movement, it is a mystery how you are not throwing up."

"I never get seasick. I am used to traveling by ship," he boasted, but still he obeyed and went to bed.


	9. Robb III

**AN:** Again, once more, this happens about a year after the last chapter.

 **Robb**

He had already visited Lordsport many times, and it was the only important city he knew aside from White Harbour, which he didn't even remember. Theon and Asha had taken him out there, to buy some toys when he was little and to eat some pies from its bakery. But this was not a kid's stroll: Theon had promised him that this time it would be completely different, and that they would do things only grown men did.

As he had been brought up along with Theon, who was now eighteen namedays old, Robb had already a very accurate notion about what young adults did, at least in the Iron Islands. But his friend hadn't told him what exactly they were going to do. He had only said that for his thirteenth nameday he would take him to Lordsport, and that they would have an adventure as the ones only grown men had with their friends.

The first difference he found between that excursion and the ones he had done previously was the time. When he was a child, whenever they went out it had been either in the morning or first thing in the afternoon, and they had always returned to Pyke before the sunset. This time, however, they hadn't set off until the late evening, and now that they had got there it was growing dark. He wasn't scared in the least about going out at night, but it thrilled him, because it was something he had never done, and for 'grown-ups.'

"Theon, now that we are in Lordsport, can you tell me what are we going to do?" Robb asked him, intrigued.

"No. We are almost there. Wait a minute and you'll see."

Robb followed Theon silently, a bit frustrated with his answer. He wanted to know that special thing they were going to do that night more than anything. But Robb knew that even if they didn't do anything, that walk along the harbor with his best friend was something special in itself, and just looking at the torches which lighted the streets that would otherwise be in the dark fascinated him.

Suddenly Theon stopped at the door of a sort of tavern with many tables that were half-full, with men who talked loudly and drank beer. Robb stopped too, wondering if Theon had seen someone he knew, or if there was something in there that had drawn his attention for some reason.

"It's here. What do you think? Would you like to go in and have some wine?" Theon suggested.

"Of course I do," he answered.

So they went in, sat at a table slightly away from the others and Theon asked for a big flagon of red wine to share. The innkeeper frowned when he saw Robb, but as he was with Theon he didn't say anything, and brought them a barrel without asking about his age.

Robb had seen people drink extraordinary quantities of that drink, so he expected beer to be sweet delicious as honey or fresh fruits, or at least as summerwine, and he was surprised to find that it wasn't. Its sour taste disappointed him, but he drank all the same, hoping to get used to it.

"This flagon is huge. Do you really think we'll be able to finish it?" He asked Theon. The amount of drink they had served them seemed to him more fitting for a group of many grown men than just for them.

"Mayhaps. If we make a bet on who drinks more, I'm certain there won't be a drop left in an hour time."

"What a great idea! I bet I will be able to drink as much as you," Robb said, and Theon grinned.

"Well, if you want to bet, let's do it. If you can't drink as much as me, we will go to a brothel and you will take a girl to bed," Theon challenged him.

That didn't sound bad to Robb. He didn't have much experience with girls, and the furthest he had ever got had been some kisses on the lips, so he felt unconfident about having actual intercourses. But if he did it with a whore, he was sure he wouldn't be rejected, even if he made a fool of himself for his lack of knowledge of the matter. Besides, an expert would surely have more than one interesting thing to teach him, which he could use when the time came.

"Very well. But if I outdrink you, you have to come to Winterfell with me next year, and stay there as my father's squire," Robb replied.

The idea of returning to Winterfell didn't thrill him very much. Theon and Asha were the nearest thing to a family he had now. They were the older siblings he had never had, and the ones who had taught him practically everything he knew. Robb had thought he would stay in Pyke until he turned sixteen, but some days ago King Balon had told him of the change of plans.

It happened that, after years of excuses, delays and gold paid in compensation, Queen Cersei had finally agreed to part from her son and send him to Pyke. The boy was ten now, and healthy enough to travel. Besides, rumor had it that the Iron Throne was deeply in debt, which meant that the king would have a hard time finding the money Balon requested for every year without his hostage as a way of making certain that Robert had no extra money to attempt to retake the Iron Islands. And once Robert Baratheon's own child was in Pyke, King Balon would have no need to keep Robb anymore. He could still stay with the Greyjoys, of course, but Balon had said it was better for him to return to the North as soon as possible. "The longer you stay away from your lands, the more your men will mistrust you when you get back. If you stay much longer, they will see you as a stranger, and in some way you will be." The best thing Robb could do, then, was to return to Winterfell while still a boy. That was the only way they could make sure Lord Stark would allow Robb to inherit the North, now that he had other sons who had grown up there and were ready to take his place. Robb knew that if Theon had been raised in the 'green lands', King Balon would probably had disowned him in Asha's favor, or even in Victarion's.

Robb had had no choice but to accept the command of the King of the Iron Islands, but he wasn't eager to do so. He didn't want to leave the family he had grown up with to return to the one he was born into and had parted from so early. The only thing that could make his return, his reunion with the parents he hadn't seen since his childhood, the half-brother he barely remembered, the sisters that were no longer babies and the unknown brothers bearable was to go there with Theon. That way he wouldn't have to part from everything he knew, at least for a while.

"I can't: I am not a boy, so I can't be your father's squire," Theon refused.

"You are not a knight either, so actually you _can_ be a squire. But if you don't want to, I won't ask you to do it. I will be pleased if you just come to Winterfell with me and stay there as a guest for a year or so."

"Fine, I accept the deal. After all, I already know I am going to beat you," his friend teased him.

And that was how they drank all the wine without Robb ever giving up. At the beginning it was easy: he felt as well as ever, and he drank the beverage as if it was water. But then he started to feel dizzy, and when they finished at last, he found it difficult to stand up. Theon burst out laughing when he saw him stagger and hold to the table to keep from falling, but he immediately stopped when he vomited.

It was humiliating and, of course, unpleasant, but soon after that his dizziness went away. When he saw he was feeling better, Theon recovered his natural humor.

"In a drinking contest, the participants are supposed to keep what they drink in their bodies, and not throw it all up. That way anyone would win! You must admit I beat you."

"You had not set that rule when we started playing, so it does not count. But if you want me to go to the brothel, I will. As long as you agree to come to Winterfell with me."

"Is that the way of it? I do you the favor of paying for a good whore's service so that you can lose your maidenhead, _and for that_ you demand me to freeze my ass off in the North?" Theon joked. "Fine! I'll go to Winterfell with you, Stark. Let's go now; if we don't hurry, by the time we get there all the pretty girls will be already taken."

They were greeted by the brothel's owner, and Theon asked him a young and pretty girl for Robb's first time and one with more experience and big breasts for himself. The man offered Theon a woman with blue eyes and blond hair, whom he said had been trained in Lys in the arts of love. For Robb he brought a girl from the Summer Islands who seemed to be about fifteen namedays old and whose breasts looked small but well-shaped under her revealing gown. Theon payed for them both, and each was taken to a different room with his girl.

"So, this is the first time you make love?" The whore asked him as she took off her gown and left it on a chair.

"Yes, it is," Robb answered as he took off his boots, hoping that he wouldn't look like a fool for admitting it.

"Don't worry. Making love is something pleasant, and you don't even need to think. You just have to relax, and let go. Come, I'll teach you." And with this she approached him, and started undressing him.

In a minute both of them lay naked on the bed. She positioned herself over him, held his shoulder and started to shake her hips slowly against Robb's manhood. It had already hardened when the girl stripped herself of her clothes, and now he was eager to press it against her. That was what he was supposed to do, he knew, and so he did it, looking for the mysterious and desired gate he had to enter, and moaning low as he did it. He quickly found his way in, and then she moaned too. Robb stopped, thinking that he had hurt her, but when he looked into her eyes to ask her she smiled and shook her hips some more, encouraging him to go on. He closed his eyes and followed the girl's rhythm, who continued moving irresistibly on him. He didn't take long, and when he got to his release he shouted, shocking his own self.

He then stood still on the bed till he caught his breath, and then he lied on her and took her again. She urged him to explore her round breasts with his hands as he did it, and he relaxed and enjoyed every moment of it, now that he wasn't anxious and he knew what was going to happen. When they finished they rested again, and finally, they did it one last time. It was already time to go, but before he left, Robb asked the whore:

"Could you tell me your name, sweet lady?"

"I'm Katalaya, from the Summer Isles, my lord. Is there any reason why my name should be of interest to you?"

"None, I think. I just wished to know the name of the girl I made love with for the first time. I may return here one day, and then I'll ask for you."

"Might I know yours, my lord?"

"Of course. I am Robb Stark, of Winterfell. Well, thank you, Katalaya. Have a nice day."

When he went out he saw Theon was already waiting for him. They started the long walk back to Pyke, which would take them many hours.

"So? How was that, Robb?" His friend asked him, smiling.

"Excellent! Can we do it again some day?"

"Of course! But, who would have thought little Stark liked whores?" He laughed.

"Don't all men like them?"

"Most of them do. But there are some who don't approve of them. I have heard your father is one of them.

Robb remained silent the rest of the way, trying to remember what little he knew of his father, and to imagine how their dreaded reunion would be. At least, he thought, Theon would be by his side when it happened.


	10. Bran

**AN:** this chapter takes place about a year after the previous one, near Winterfell, at the point in time in which A Game of Thrones begins.

 **Bran**

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer. They set off at daybreak to see a man beheaded, and Bran rode among them, nervous with excitement. It was the first time they had deemed him old enough to go with his lord father and his brother, Jon, to see the king's justice done. It was the ninth year of summer, and the seventh of Bran's life.

Bran didn't know who was the old and scrawny man that was bound hand and foot to the holdfast wall awaiting the king's justice or what he had done to be condemned, but Jon had told him he was probably a deserter of the Night's Watch, because he was dressed all in black. The boy didn't understand why he could have deserted, knowing that it would mean his death, but he believed his brother. He was fourteen namedays old, he was smart, and he knew about those things.

When he looked at his father he saw a grim cast to his eyes. He did not look at all like the father who would sit before the fire in the evening and talk of the age of heroes and the children of the forest. _He has taken off Father's face_ , Bran thought, _and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell_. Bran then got serious too, sitting as tall as he could on his pony beside Jon, trying to pretend he had seen this all before, and that he was not just a boy of seven, but almost a grown man. Fortunately, he was not the only inexperienced one present. Bran glanced quickly at his brother Robb, who sat as silent and solemn as he did, but did not seem anxious at all. Robb was the same age as Jon, and the heir to Winterfell, but he had been living away from the North since before Bran's birth, so they had only met a fortnight before, when he had returned to Winterfell at last.

There were questions asked and answers given, but afterwards Bran couldn't recall what had been said. Finally his lord father gave a command, and two of his men dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square and forced his head down onto the hard wood.

Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and Jory Cassel, the captain of the guards, brought forth the ancestral sword of House Stark: Ice. It was as wide across as a man's hand and it was taller even than Jon. Eddard took off his gloves, took hold of Ice with his both hands and passed the sentence in King Robert Baratheon's name.

"Keep the pony well in hand," muttered his half-brother Jon, moving closer. "And don't look away. Father will know if you do."

Bran obeyed. His father severed the man's head with a single stroke, spraying out blood as dark as summerwine on the snow. Bran couldn't take his eyes off the blood as the snow drank it up and turned red too.

"You did well," Jon told him solemnly. He knew then that it was true, because Jon was an old hand at justice.

Bran had been brought up as though he was his parents' eldest son: he was the only one who took fencing lessons with Jon, maester Luwin's only student, and the first one to be introduced every time they were visited by any of his lord father's bannermen. Jon was the only older brother Bran had known for years, but he had always been aware that there was another one: a boy called Robb, who lived in a faraway land called 'the Iron Islands'. His mother had talked to him about him: her firstborn, who had his eyes and hair the same color as Bran's, and who liked building snow-castles and playing with wooden swords. Jon had also told him about Robb: he had been his first brother, friend and playmate. His father, on the other hand, had never liked to talk about him, yet he had told Bran why he didn't live in Winterfell with them when he had asked him. Bran had almost expected Robb to be a child of his age for what they told him, even though he knew that he was much older, and was surprised when he finally met his unknown brother.

In the way back to Winterfell Bran rode with his brothers and Robb's friend, Theon Greyjoy, ahead of the main party. The prince of the Iron Island soon started talking to Robb about some ship they had captured together and they laughed, amused with their own stories, ignoring Bran and Jon.

"Weren't you afraid, Bran?" Jon asked after a while, and Bran shook his head. "You are brave, then" said Jon, with a small proud smile.

"The deserter was brave too," Bran said then. "He knew he was going to die, but he didn't beg for his life or try to run. He was brave too."

"That doesn't make him brave. He was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Bran. Besides, a brave man wouldn't have deserted in the first place."

"I suppose you are right," Bran had to admit. A deserter couldn't be brave, or could he?

Then his father approached them, and he said he wanted to have a word with Robb and Bran. They stopped where they were and Jon, realizing that his presence wasn't needed, kept riding. Greyjoy quickly decided to follow him. When they were alone, their lord father asked Bran whether he felt well.

"Yes, Father," he replied, turning round to look at him. "Do you think a deserter can be brave?" Bran asked him. The discussion he had had with Jon had aroused his curiosity.

"What do you think?" His father asked in turn, not only to him but also to Robb. His brother remained silent, not daring to speak, and in the end Bran answered his own question.

"I don't think so, because deserters run from their duties when they are afraid, and that is not brave. But, can a man be brave when he is afraid?"

His father smiled to him. "That is the only time when he can be brave." Then he got serious, yet still with his Father face, and asked his two sons: "Do you understand why I did it?"

"He was a deserter from the Night's Watch. An oath-breaker," said Robb, in a way that suggested that he thought it a stupid question.

"That is true. No man is more dangerous than a deserter, because he knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile. But you mistake me. The question was not why the man had to die, but why _I_ had to do it."

"That I don't know," Robb said, thoughtful. "In the Iron Islands, the usual punishment for oath-breakers and outlaws is death by drowning, but King Balon seldom sees to them himself. He often has his men do it, unless the condemned is someone who offended him personally."

"And King Robert has a headsman," Bran added, uncertainly.

"He does," his father admitted. "As did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. Some day, Robb, you will be the Lord of Winterfell. And you, Bran, will be Robb's bannerman. Both of you will hold lands of your own for your king, and justice will fall on you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is."

Shortly after that Jon appeared in the distance, on the crest of the hill before them.

"Father, Bran, come quickly! Come see what I have found!

Jon turned back and disappeared again behind the hill, and Jory came near them to ask Lord Eddard whether there was some trouble.

"I do not think so, Jory. But come, let us see what my son is so excited about," he replied, kicking his horse into a trot. Bran and Robb did the same. They found Jon at the river bank north of the bridge. He quickly dismounted and picked something, a small creature, from the snow. He cradled it with his arms, so Bran could not see what it was. The rest of the party came, and the men were struck by wonder and fear of the giant she-wolf the boy had found dead in the snow. The size of it impressed Bran. Theon Greyjoy was amused by it and he said it was a freak, but Jon corrected him, announcing that it was a direwolf.

Jon showed them the little wolf pup he had in his arms. Bran approached him and his brother allowed him to touch it.

"There are five of them," Jon reported, putting a second pup into Bran's arms. He sat down and hugged the wolf pup. Its fur was soft and warm against his cheek.

His father's men discussed the cause of the female wolf's death, and the meaning that the presence of those animals south of the Wall might have. But Bran did not pay them much attention, and it wasn't until Hullen said that the pups would die soon that he reacted.

"The sooner the better. Give the beast here, Bran," Greyjoy said, drawing his sword.

"No. It's mine," Bran cried out fiercely.

"Put away your sword, Theon," Robb said. Bran was startled for this, but also glad that his brother had chosen to take his side and confront his friend. "We will keep these pups."

"It would be a mercy to kill them," said Hullen.

Bran looked to his father for help, but he found only a frown."Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a quick death than a hard one of cold and starvation".

The boy was about to start crying, as he believed that nothing would change their minds, when Jon addressed their father, in defense of the pups. "Lord Stark," he called him. It was weird to hear Jon speak to their father in such a formal way. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. "There are five pups. Three male and two female. You have five trueborn children, three boys and two girls. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord."

Their father's face changed, and the men exchanged glances. Bran loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran knew what his brother had done. The count had turned right only because he had omitted himself. He had included baby Rickon and Robb, who had only lived in Winterfell for the last fortnight, but not the bastard.

"You want no pup for yourself?" Their father asked him softly.

"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark, father. I am no Stark," Jon pointed out.

Their father regarded Jon thoughtfully, and there was silence until Robb dared break it, promising that he would nurse his pup personally. Bran said he would take care of his own too. Their father stated that that was the way it should be, and that each of them should feed and train their wolf if they wished to keep them.

"You will have to train them yourselves. The kennelmaster will want nothing with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, brutalize them or train them badly. A direwolf is not a dog, to slink off at a kick. It will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, Father," Bran said, holding his pup tightly.

"Yes," Robb said, too.

"The pups might die anyway," their father warned, "despite all you do."

"They won't," Robb promised. "We won't _let_ them."

"Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell."

Bran climbed to his pony again, and the others also mounted their horses to be back on their way. But when they were halfway across the bridge, Jon pulled up suddenly.

"What is it, Jon?" Their lord father asked.

"Can't you hear it?" He asked. Bran tried hard to listen, wondering what Jon was talking about, but he didn't hear anything strange. "There," Jon made his horse turn round and returned to the place where the dead wolf lay. There he dismounted and knelt down on the snow. A moment later he returned to them, smiling.

"He must have crawled away from the others," he said.

"Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white and his eyes were as red as the blood of the man who had dies that morning. It was the only pup that had opened its eyes, and Bran thought it was curious.

"An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others."

"I think not," Robb told his friend with a long and serious look. "That one belongs to Jon."

"That's right," Jon confirmed.


	11. Catelyn

**AN:** This chapter takes place a few months later, still in Winterfell. From now on, the fic will be more fast-paced and action-packed, and many important events from the books will happen off-page. The most important changes will be explained in the author notes.

 **Catelyn**

Catelyn's chamber was warm, even without any fire lit. The heavy blankets that covered her up to her breasts made her feel a little too hot for her comfort, even more so after her lovemaking session with her lord husband. He seemed to feel the same as her, because he got out of the bed and walked to the window.

"I will refuse him," said Ned as he opened the window to let some air in. His eyes were haunted and his voice thick with doubt.

Catelyn sat up in the bed to look at him. "You cannot. You _must_ not."

"My duties are here in the North. I have no wish to be Robert's Hand."

"He will not understand that. If you refuse to serve him, he will wonder why, and sooner or later he will begin to suspect that you oppose him. Can't you see the danger that would put us in?"

Ned shook his head. "Robert would never harm me or any of mine. We were closer than brothers. If I refuse him, he will curse, roar and rage for a while, and in a week we will laugh about it together. I know the man!"

"You knew the man," she agreed. "Yet the king is a stranger to you. Pride is everything to a king, my lord. Robert has come a very long way to see you and bring you these great honors. You cannot throw them back in his face."

"Honors?" Ned laughed bitterly.

"Yes, Ned," she said, getting impatient now. "He offers his own son in marriage to our daughter, what else would you call that? Sansa might one day be queen of all the lands between Dorne and the Wall. What is so wrong with that?"

"Sansa is only eleven, Cat," he complained, climbing back to the bed. "And we don't even know Joffrey."

"He is Crown Prince and heir to the Iron Throne. And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon."

"Brandon," Ned said bitterly. "Yes, Brandon would know what to do. He was the one meant to have you and Winterfell, and be father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me."

"Perhaps not," Catelyn agreed. "Yet Brandon is now dead and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not."

"You would have me take Robert's 'honors' so as not to risk his wrath, yet for that I would have to turn King Balon down," her husband noted.

The king of the Iron Islands had sent them a letter some days before in which he expressed his wish to betroth his son to their eldest daughter. And Catelyn could not deny that the Greyjoy was more likely than Robert Baratheon to take offense from a refusal, even though Robb had told her that the match had been Theon's notion and not the king's.

"That is not true. You could try to please them both," Catelyn suggested, looking up at him.

Ned glanced at her, puzzled. "I can hardly betroth Sansa to both Prince Joffrey and Prince Theon."

"That you certainly cannot do," she agreed. "But we have two daughters. We could promise Sansa to Theon and Arya to Joffrey."

" _Gods_ , Cat! Arya is still a _child_ ," Lord Eddard objected, climbing back into the bed, next to her. "She is too young, and far from ready for this."

"They are not going to get married tomorrow, my love," she reminded him. "It's just a betrothal."

"Still, I don't think Arya will like it."

Catelyn didn't think so either: Arya was not the kind of girl who dreamed of marrying a handsome prince and becoming his princess. She liked to play with boys and make friends, but nothing more than that. Yet Catelyn knew that it would have to change one day, and Arya would have to marry some time, and wedding her to a young prince was probably the best they could do for her. She was about to say so to her lord husband when Desmond interrupted them, reporting that the maester was without and insisted to be shown in.

"Very well. Send him in," he accepted. He went to the wardrobe and slipped on a heavy robe. Catelyn suddenly felt cold and pulled the furs up to her chin. The maester came in.

He waited for the door to close behind him, and only after did he speak. "My lord, pardon me for disturbing your rest," he said to Ned. "But I have been sent a message."

Luwin told them about a mysterious wooden box he had found in his observatory, with a lens inside, and the message he had found concealed in the box. He had not read its content, for it was not for his eyes, but hers. So he came to her and left the paper on the table beside the bed and started to retreat, but Ned commanded him to stay.

Her hands trembled as she reached out to pick the letter. The furs dropped out, exposing her skin. The letter was sealed with a blue wax, and she recognized the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn. "It's from Lysa," she informed her husband.

He frowned and his face darkened, yet he told her to open it. She did, but it took her some time to make some sense out of the lines she read. Then she remembered the private language they had made up when they were girls, and the message started to reveal.

She got up from the bed and went across the room. Maester Luwin averted his eyes and Ned looked shocked. She approached the hearth and quickly lit a fire, then tossed the letter into the flames. Eddard stood up and walked to her. He helped her to her feet and then held her tight. "My lady, tell me! What was in that message?" He demanded.

"A warning," she said softly.

Lysa claimed his husband had been murdered by the Lannisters, she proceeded to explain. And that left them no choice: Ned had to go south and be Robert's Hand, so that he could find the truth. He still refused, though, so it fell on maester Luwin to convince him. After that, they kept quiet and let him bid his silent farewell to the home he loved.

When he was ready, he sat on a chair by the fire and told her that she should stay in Winterfell when he went south. She felt his icy words as an arrow piercing her heart.

"No," she said, suddenly afraid. If he left, she might not see him ever again.

"Yes," he said firmly. "You must govern the North in my stead, while I run Robert's errands. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Robb is fourteen. He will soon be a man grown. He must learn how to rule, and I won't be here for him. Make him part of your councils. He must be ready when the time comes." Then he turned to the maester. "Maester Luwin, I trust you as I would my own blood. Give my wife your voice in all things, and teach my son what he needs to know."

Luwin nodded and then there was silence, until Cat found the courage to ask the question whose answer she most dreaded. "What of the other children?"

"Rickon is too young," he said gently. "And, if we mean to agree to King Balon's offer, Sansa should stay here as well. But Arya and Bran I would take with me."

"I could not bear it," Catelyn said, trembling.

"You must," he said. "Joffrey won't be in King's Landing now, but it won't hurt Arya to meet her future home and learn the ways of the southern court."

Catelyn knew he was right. Arya was in desperate need for refinement if she was to become a princess, and spending some time at court would help her with that. Reluctantly, she let go of her in her heart. But not Bran.

"Yes, my love, I can see that," she said. "But please, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain in Winterfell. He is only seven."

"I was eight when my father sent me to foster at the Eyrie," he told her. "Bran will be fine at court, I think. He would love it: he longs for adventure and new places to explore. And he is of an age with Prince Tommen. Let them grow together and become friends, as Robert and I did. Our House will be safer for it."

She knew it was true, but it didn't make it easier to bear. She took a deep breath and bravely said "Keep him off the walls, then. You know how he loves to climb." Ned kissed her tears from her eyes before they could fall.

The matter was settled, yet there was another thing to discuss. Maester Luwin asked Lord Eddard what he should do about his bastard son, Jon Snow. Catelyn tensed when she heard that name. Ned felt her anger and pulled away. She would not have him with her, yet he didn't dare take him to court.

The maester was the one to find a solution to the problem he had posed: Jon could join the Night's Watch. He had already expressed his wishes to do so, and it was as good a choice as any, for him. But Catelyn knew that her voice would not be welcome, so she let Ned and maester Luwin figure all that out alone. In the end, Ned said he would talk to Jon when the time came, and Catelyn promised to tell the girls about their betrothals.

She never knew when her lord husband talked to his bastard, but she informed their daughters of their plans for them the following morning. She asked them to join her for a walk after breakfast, and they were very happy to do so. They decided to take their direwolves with them. Catelyn was amazed to notice how they had grown in mere weeks: they were now as big as adult hunting dogs.

"Sansa, Arya, there is something I need to tell you," she began when they got out. The girls looked up at her, startled by her sudden formality. "Your father has been named Hand of the King. This means he will be traveling to King's Landing soon. He might not be coming back for many years."

"But, why?" Arya complained.

"Can't we go with him?" Sansa wanted to know.

"He cannot refuse the king, Arya," she explained her younger daughter. "Your father must do as king Robert bids him. He says you should go with him." Then she turned to Sansa. "As for you, my dear, I'm afraid you must stay. Your father has other plans for you."

"And what plans are these?" Sansa asked, both angry and disappointed.

"Your lord father means to betroth you to Prince Theon Greyjoy. He thinks it would be better for you to remain in Winterfell for as long as he does." Lady Catelyn looked back at her daughter. She was quiet now and staring down at her feet. "Sansa, do you not like Prince Theon?" She asked her, concerned. She would not force her child into a marriage she didn't want.

"I do like him," Sansa replied, blushing. "He is a handsome, good humored young man. But he is much older than me… I don't know how… how I can make him love me."

"You don't need to," Arya said scornfully, as if Sansa's insecurity was stupid. "You are already betrothed."

"They are," Catelyn told Arya, giving her a stern look. "Yet love does not always come with marriage. But don't worry," she told her eldest daughter now. "Prince Theon already likes you."

"And how do you know that?" Sansa's eyes gleamed with surprise, excitement and hope.

"Because the betrothal was his own notion."

"So, the prince said he wishes to marry me? Am I going to be a princess then?" Sansa was thrilled and delighted with the idea. "When shall we wed?"

"Not for many years," she cut her, though she was careful to say it kindly. "You must have your flowering first. And then you should wait at least one more year, to be certain you are ready."

"Why does father want me to go with him?" Arya asked, not very interested in her sister's betrothal.

"Well, Arya, your father and I have been talking about this for a while. We decided that it would be good for you to see the court and know the customs of the south. Living in King's Landing might achieve what the septa Mordane couldn't do here: to teach you to behave like a proper lady." Catelyn didn't want to tell her of her betrothal to Prince Joffrey yet; she knew that nothing good would come of it. It would have to wait until she was older, and more willing to accept it.

"But I don't want to be a lady!" Arya shouted, suddenly annoyed. "And King's Landing won't change that!"

"Well, you _are_ a lady, whether you want it or not," she told her, calmly yet firmly.

"I am not!" Arya yelled. She did not give Catelyn time to scold her. She just turned away and ran into the godswood, with Nymeria running after her.

"I will never understand her," Sansa said lightly as she walked with her mother back to the castle.

Catelyn sighed. She would have to tell Ned of this and send him after Arya. If the gods were good, he would change her mind about going to King's Landing. However, she knew that her daughter was likelier to remain reluctant and see it as a punishment. She prayed silently for her husband to find a way to make their daughter understand.


	12. Sansa

**AN:** This chapter takes place many months after the previous one, in Winterfell. During that time, in King's Landing, Ned investigated the circumstances of Jon Arryn's death and got to the same conclusions as in A Game of Thrones. He made practically the same decisions that in the book and, in the end, Cersei arrested him. Arya escaped, but no one in her family knows that.

 **Sansa**

She was alone in her room, working on a high rose-shaped embroidered collar for a new gown, when she heard the raised voices of men and the noise of the portcullis going up. She looked out the window to see them, even though she already knew who they were with no need of seeing their pierced-sun banners. The Karstarks were the last to arrive. The others were either already in Winterfell, or waiting for Robb in their own keeps to join him once he was on his way. It was better that way, Sansa knew. There were already too many people in Winterfell, and there was no room left for more. Not even the Great Hall had been big enough for them: Robb had had to feast all the important lords separately.

Sansa had been to all the feasts and had been given a place of honor, to Robb's left. The seat at his right was Bran's, for he was heir to Winterfell after Robb. She had seen how the bannermen tested Robb, demanding him honors, questioning his rights and ability to command them and telling him he was a green boy. Somehow, Robb managed to answer courteously to all of them and make them bend to his will. She was impressed by the way his brother accomplished to win the respect of those lords, who had previously decided to mock him. However, what amazed Sansa the most was Lady Maege Mormont. She was dressed in plate and mail, just like the men, and she meant to fight with them. Robb didn't seem so stunned, though, and made no inquiry as to her battle skills.

She left the fabric on which she was working on her desk and stood up. She usually liked needlework, but since that her friend Jeyne had gone to King's Landing she had no one to talk to while she worked, and it was not so entertaining.

She wondered if she would do well to go and greet the Karstarks, but decided against it; Robb could perfectly do it by himself. If she went there, she would only make them wonder about her age and whether she could marry their sons one day, and she didn't want to. She was already betrothed, and happy about it.

When she left her room, then, she didn't go to the gates, but to the sept. It was deserted, even now that the castle was so crowded, because very few of them worshipped the Seven. Sansa believed both in the old gods and in the new, but she preferred the seven by far. They had names and faces and songs and, except maybe for the Stranger, they weren't scary like the face of the heart tree in the godswood.

She knelt on the floor before the stone figure of the crone, lit a candle and prayed. "Please, lead my brother through a safe path. Don't let him ride to his death. Watch over him. And over Theon, too." The wrinkled face looked down at her, and Sansa hoped she had listened.

She knew her grandfather had left Winterfell once to go to King's Landing, and so had her uncle Brandon. None of them had returned. Her father had also gone south, with Arya, and they hadn't returned either. All the news they had got were contradictory, and the only thing that was certain was that her father had been taken captive. Their lady mother had left too, and she didn't seem to be coming back anytime soon. Now Robb wanted to march south as well, and that could mean both their father's death and his own. That scared her more than she was willing to admit. She preferred to act strong and confident around Robb and Theon, so as not to make them feel uncomfortable, and around her younger brothers, to sooth them and calm them down.

She went then to the mother's statue and lit another candle. "Mother, have mercy on my brother, and the men that will ride with him. Stay the swords and the arrows that would harm them, and let them return safe to their homes and families." She also prayed for the queen to have mercy on his father and not kill them when she heard that Robb had called the banners. The Mother looked at her with a kind, understanding face.

Lastly, she knelt before the Father, and prayed for him to judge her parents, her brother and her betrothed justly. She prayed for the ones with the most righteous cause to win, for she was sure it was them.

There was nothing else she wished to ask any of the gods, so she rose and left the sept. She was going to go to the library to find some love story to read, but she was stopped by Robb before she could get there.

"Sansa, the Kartarks have arrived," he announced.

"I know. I have seen them. But I thought you would want to greet them yourself."

"Yes, I have already welcomed them to Winterfell. But I'll have to discuss some serious matters with the bannermen." He looked serious and formal then; he was speaking as her lord, not as her brother. "I'll need you to act host at tonight's feast for Lord Karstark's sons and honored friends."

"I will if you wish. Do you mean to march soon?"

"In a few days, if the gods are good," he answered. "Now that we are all here, we only have to get everything ready to go. Well, I have to go and train now. Good luck with the feast!"

"Good luck to you too," she said, thinking of the battles he would have to fight.

That night she took Robb's place at the head of the table, and Bran was placed in his customary place, to her right. Everyone else was already seated and waiting for them, talking idly when she arrived, but they all fell quiet as she and her brother came in. She could feel all the eyes on them. It made her uneasy. They would surely have preferred to be feasted by Robb, and they would not think much of her, a girl of two-and-ten who knew nothing of battles. "I welcome you to our fires," she told them, trying to sound confident and natural, "and offer you meat and mead in honor of our friendship."

Harrion Karstark and his younger brothers rose and bowed respectfully to her and her little brother, yet as they settled back in their places she could hear the younger two talking in hushed voices. They weren't speaking about her; it was Bran they were concerned with. They said he was broken. She glanced and her brother and could tell quickly that he had heard them because of his downcast face.

"I don't want to be broken," he whispered fiercely to her and to maester Luwin, who was seated in front of him, to her left. "I want to be a knight."

Sansa already knew that. Her little brother had dreamed of being a knight since he was a baby like Rickon, just as she had always dreamed of becoming a princess. It only made it all sadder.

"You will surely find something else you could become," she tried to comfort him. "You can build a keep of your own, like Brandon the Builder. Or you can become a septon."

"There are some who call my order the knights of the mind," Luwin said. "You are a surpassing clever boy when you work at it, Bran. Have you ever thought that you might wear a maester's chain? There is no limit to what you might learn."

"I want to learn magic," Bran told them. "The crow promised that I would fly."

Luwin sighed and Sansa looked down to her plate. Bran had told her all about his frightening dreams; about the fall and the crow that talked. She guessed there should be some meaning hidden in them, but no matter how hard they tried they could find none at all.

"I can teach you history, healing, the speech of the ravens and how to build a castle, and at the Citadel of Oldtown they can teach you a thousand things more." Luwin told him. "But, Bran, no man can teach you magic."

"The children could," he said. "The children of the forest."

Then he told them something the wildling woman Osha had told him that morning. It was a scary and unbelievable story about dead things that walked North of the Wall and killed every living thing they came across. He said Robb should be taking his army North instead of south.

A shiver ran down Sansa's spine. She hadn't believed in those stories for years now, but Osha was a woman grown, and she had come from beyond the Wall. If she said such things existed… There was no way to prove her wrong.

"The wildling woman could give Old Nan lessons on storytelling," the maester said when Bran was done talking. "I will talk to her if you like, but it would be best if you did not trouble your brother with this folly. He has already more than enough to concern him. It's the Lannisters that hold your father, child, not the Others, the giants or the children of the forest."

And two days later everything was ready and it was time for farewells. After learning that Old Nan and maester Luwin had failed to convince Rickon to go down and see his older brother off she decided to go to his room and try it herself.

She found him sitting on his bed, red-eyed and defiant. "Our brother is leaving today. Won't you go down and say farewell to him?"

"No!" He shouted. "NO farewell!"

"He will not be coming back for a long time," she told him, calmly. "The fighting might take more than a year. Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye?"

"I will never see him again!" He cried. "No one ever comes back!"

"That's not true," she said gently, walking to his bed. "Robb will free Father and then he will come back home. And Mother will come too."

Rickon remained silent, his face hidden between his knees. Sansa sat beside him and stroke his hair lightly. "I know you want him to stay safe, at home, with us. If truth be told, I would also prefer him to stay. That's because we love him, and we want him to be fine. And that's why we should go down and bid him farewell."

The boy looked up at her. "Why? It won't change anything. He'll go all the same," her brother replied. He was not shouting now, Sansa noticed.

"He will go," she agreed, "but that doesn't mean it won't change anything. If you go and see him off it might be that sometime in the future, when Robb is fighting in a battle and surrounded by foes, he will remember the moment when his little brother said goodbye to him, waving his hand at him at Winterfell's gates. And then he will remember that you are here, waiting for him, and that could help him find some hidden courage to fight his way back home."

"Do you really think so?" He asked, wanting to believe.

"Of course," she told him with a smile. "Will you come, then?"

"Yes," he said, holding her hand and getting off the bed, "I will."

They went there quickly, as they knew Robb would like to leave early. When they got to the yard beneath the gatehouse they saw that Bran was already there, mounted on Dancer. Robb was mounted on a shaggy grey stallion, and he was armed with his shield, a sword and a dagger.

"You are the lord in Winterfell now," he was telling Bran. "You must take my place, as I took Father's, until we come home."

"I know," Bran replied miserably.

"Listen to maester Luwin's counsel," he advised him. "Sansa, Rickon, I thought you wouldn't come," their brother told them when he noticed them. "Sansa, you will be the oldest one of the family left, now. Take care of Bran and Rickon."

"I will," she promised. "Come back soon." _With Father and Mother, please._

"I will, too," he told her. Then he turned to their baby brother "Rickon, I will be away for some time. But don't worry. Mother will be here soon, and when I return I will bring Father with me."

"Fare well, brother," Rickon told him. His red eyes were moist and his lower lip was trembling. "And, when you are afraid and surrounded by foes, remember me. Remember that I'm waiting for you, at home."

"I will remember, Rickon," Robb promised. He smiled at his little brother, but his eyes were about to weep too. Sansa held Rickon's hand tightly.

He wheeled his horse around and trotted away, followed by Grey Wind, Hallis Mollen, the Greatjon and Theon Greyjoy. The latter stopped by her.

"You are beautiful this morning, my lady," he complimented her. She knew this was the last time her betrothed would see her in a long while, so she had made sure she looked her best. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown with a complicated and exquisitely embroidered collar her mother had made for her, and her hairstyle was carefully brushed and laid back with two braids that joined at the back, crowning her. She was glad to see he had noticed her efforts.

"So are you, my prince," she answered. He was dressed for riding, as all the other men, but Theon was always handsome, regardless of what he wore.

"Thank you, lady Sansa. Will you write to me? A long time might pass before I see you again, if I ever do. It would be nice to know from you, and to have something beautiful to think about, with all the blood and the death of the battles," he said, smiling as usual.

"I will. You will have word from me often, I promise. Farewell, Theon."

"Thank you, Sansa. You'll get word of me too. Good bye, my lady."

He urged his horse to a gallop to catch up with Robb, and soon they all disappeared beyond the portcullis. The rest of the men followed after them. She could hear the townfolk cheer Robb beyond the castle walls. When those cheers faded to silence and the yard was empty at last, Winterfell seemed deserted and dead. The only ones that remained were women, children and old men.


	13. Theon III

**AN:** Again, this chapter takes place many months after the last one. In that time, Ned was executed, but not in the same way as in the books: Joffrey was not in King's Landing to demand his death in Baelor's Sept, but Sansa, the reason why Ned agreed to "confess" in A Game of Thrones, wasn't there either. So he never took back his accusations and Cersei decided to have him beheaded, because he posed a threat to her family, but not in Baelor's, as she didn't want to risk the Faith's wrath needlessly. Robb was then proclaimed King in the North, and he fought in many battles, just like in the books. After some time he decided to send his best friend, Theon, to the Iron Islands, to ask for King's Balon's help.

 **Theon**

The Myraham was a fat-bellied southern merchant up from Oldtown, and her captain was a fat-bellied merchant as well. A longship from the Iron Islands would have made the crossing in half the time, he knew. Still, Theon was not displeased by the journey: he was now about to arrive in Lordsport, undrowned, and the voyage had offered some amusements. He put an arm around the captain's daughter and told her father that they would be in his cabin.

The cabin was truly the captain's, but it had been given to him for the promise of a rich purse of gold. The captain's daughter, on the other hand, Theon had never been explicitly allowed to have, but she had come to his bed willingly nonetheless. The girl was a bit plump and stupid to his taste, but her breasts filled his hands nicely and she had been a maiden the first time he took her. The captain didn't approve, and it amused Theon greatly to see him struggle to swallow his outrage while he performed his courtesies to the prince.

As he took off his wet coat she said, "You must be so happy to see your home again. How many years have you been away?"

"Two, I think," he told her. He drew the girl close and kissed her ear. "Take off your cloak."

Shyly, she did as he bid her, and then bowed and smiled for him. "Come here," he told her.

"I have never seen the Iron Islands," she said as she obeyed.

"Count yourself fortunate," he chuckled. "They are windy, cold and damp. Miserable hard places, in truth, but my father says hard places make hard men, and hard men rule the world."

The girl didn't seem to be listening. "I could go ashore with you, if it please you…"

"You could go ashore," he admitted, squeezing her breast. "But if you went with me, you'd have to be my salt wife."

She didn't know what that meant, so he explained her, as he unlaced her bodice deftly. The girl's eyes grew wide. "I would be your salt wife, milord."

"We shall see," he said, circling her nipple with his finger. Then he took it to his mouth and bit it until she gasped.

"You can put it in me again, if it please you," she whispered in his ear as he sucked.

"It would please me to teach you something new. Unlace me and pleasure me with your mouth."

"With my mouth?" She asked dumbly.

He touched her full lips softly. "It's what those lips were made for, sweetling. If you were my salt wife, you would do as I command."

She was timid at first, but learned quickly, which pleased him. Her mouth was as warm, wet and sweet as her cunt, and this way he didn't have to listen to her. _I might keep her as a salt wife, in truth. She isn't bright or beautiful, but she's pretty, obedient and willing to learn_. She'd do well enough as a salt wife, until his betrothed grew old enough to wed.

His climax came sudden as a storm, and he filled the girl's mouth with his seed. She tried to pull away, but he held her tightly by the hair. When it was done she crawled up beside him. "Did I please milord?"

"Well enough," he told her.

"It tasted salty," she murmured.

"Like the sea?"

She nodded. "I have always loved the sea, milord."

"As I have," he said, fondling her breasts idly.

"Take me with you, milord," the captain's daughter begged. "I don't need to go to your castle. I can stay in some town, and be your salt wife." She reached out to stroke his cheek.

Theon Greyjoy pushed her hand aside gently and climbed off the bunk. "I will take you," he informed her. "But be warned: you may be my first wife, but you won't be the only one. I am already betrothed to a highborn northern lady and, when the day comes that I wed her, you'll have to remain faithful to me, and obey my lady wife as well as myself."

"I will be loyal, my prince. And I would be honored to serve your lady wife too."

"Well then, I'll tell your father that I'm taking you with me."

He could see that they were already in Lordsport, and he searched with his eyes for some known ships. He spied his father's Great Kraken, together with some other forty longships anchored, and that made him wonder whether his father was already planning to join in the war. That would make everything easier for Theon, but it would also rob him of the glory and renown he could win if he went by himself. He wanted his father to grant him permission to take the Iron Fleet to raid the Westerlands, not to send Victarion to do the job.

After pacing the deck restlessly for some time and trying to find an explanation for the presence of the longships he resolved to seek the captain out. It would not do to make a scene later, in front of whoever his royal father had sent to greet him. He returned to his cabin to take the gold he had promised and then went to see the father of his future salt wife. The man was busy at the rudder, trying to find a place to anchor, but he turned round when he heard his steps and bowed respectfully when he saw who he was. "My lord, is there anything I can do for you?"

"You have already done enough, I think," Theon replied. "And I think it's time I paid you for your services." He handed him the purse.

"Thank you, my prince," he said pleased, taking it and placing it carefully on a table next to him. "It was an honor to serve you."

"I am glad to know that," he said, amused. "But that is not all. I mean to honor you further than this."

"Do you?" The fat man asked. Theon perceived suspicion in his voice.

"I do. I shall take your daughter as my wife," he announced straight away.

"What?" He mumbled, bewildered. "Are you asking me for her hand?"

 _I am not_ , Theon thought. _We Ironmen don't ask for what we want. We take it by force_. "You don't need to worry, good captain. Your daughter will have everything she needs in Pyke, and she will be wife to a king someday."

"I would most certainly agree to this," he said, his face and tone still showing disbelief. "But I don't see why you should want to marry her. She is no lady, and you know that."

"We Ironmen can take many wives," he explained. "Only one of them, the rock wife, should be a lady; the other ones are salt wives, and they are always common girls. I like your daughter well enough to keep her as my first salt wife."

"That's all right, then," he agreed. "I will gladly give you my daughter's hand, my prince. I would like to be there in her wedding, though."

"You shall be," he promised.

When they disembarked, a handful of merchants gathered to meet the ship. The captain announced himself and enumerated the goods he had to sell before heralding Theon. The men bowed slightly when they saw him, but that was all. There was no honor guard waiting for him, but he hadn't expected any. His father had never been one to care about such things. Theon commanded the captain to send somebody after his belongings and he stepped off the ship.

"Welcome back, little brother," a woman clad in mail and leather called him. Theon smiled at Asha; his father had sent someone to meet him after all.

"Asha," he acknowledged her. "It's nice to see you."

"Am I supposed to say I'm pleased to see you too?" She teased.

"You can say whatever you like." _You always do, anyway_. "My things, please," he commanded the captain.

A sailor gave him his longbow and quiver, but it was the captain's daughter who brought him his clothes. He took them and she tried to hold his hand, but he didn't let her.

"Who is this girl?" Asha asked him when she saw that she was going with them.

"She is Alla, the captain's daughter, and soon enough she'll be my salt wife."

Asha regarded her with a frown and then rolled her eyes with disapproval, but whatever she thought of her she kept to herself, fortunately. "You'll have to share a mount, then. I was not told that you had company, so I only brought two horses."

"That will be all right," he shrugged as they mounted.

"Tell me, Theon, why are you here? I had thought you were going to stay in Winterfell longer. And what made you want to marry the lady Sansa? She can't have seduced you, for she is still a child."

"I just thought that being the son of a Greyjoy and a Harlaw, the two most powerful houses in the Iron Islands, I have no need of another ironborn alliance. One of the Great Houses of Westeros makes a much better match. Besides, Robb and I like the idea of becoming brothers. We were always closer from each other than our actual brothers. Sansa didn't seduce me, but she looks beautiful enough for a girl not yet flowered, and I think age will only make her look better," he explained. "As for my business here, I had meant to stay longer in the North, but things have changed. Lord Eddard was executed under the almost certainly false accusation of treason, and Robb has declared war against the Lannisters,"

"And will you so easily forsake your betrothed, just to avoid fighting for her brother, who you claim was closer than a brother to you?" She provoked him.

"I am here to do just the opposite," he replied, undisturbed. "I will ask Father to give me command of some longships, so that I can take them for a raid in the Westerlands. And while Queen Cersei frets and sends half her men to defend Casterly Rock, Robb might find his chance to take King's Landing."

"It's a tempting plan, you know?" She told him, smiling. "I have always wanted to raid the westerlands, even before that little ass Joffrey came to Pyke. Now, though, I think it would be delightful to show that brat his just deserves."

Theon knew what she meant. He had met Joffrey briefly, for the boy had come to the Iron Islands only a month before he left, but that had been more than enough to notice his willful, senseless and aggressive behavior. He was king now, so Queen Cersei had demanded to have him back in King's Landing. King Balon had refused to comply unless she gave him her younger son, Tommen. Fortunately she had agreed, so Joffrey was no longer fostering in Pyke.

"I never invited you to join me," Theon told her sister.

"You didn't," she agreed. "But you will let me nonetheless, if you are smart. Father won't let you take more than twenty ships if you go alone. If we do it together, though, I can command as many ships as you, and we might even storm Casterly Rock."

"Well then, you may come along if you wish," he agreed. As long as only the two of them went, he would be satisfied. "Yet we still need Father's permission."

"I wouldn't worry about that so much," she shrugged it off, sure that she'd have her way.

In Pyke they were welcomed by Helya, the steward, who informed them that King Balon would see them in the Sea Tower when Theon was rested from his trip. He asked her to show him to his bedchamber, and to pick another one for Alla. Heyla bowed stiffly and bid them follow her. She took him to his room, which was just as he had left it years ago, except for the layer of dust that covered the floor and the furniture; it seemed that nobody had bothered to clean it for his arrival. The captain's daughter was given the room next to his.

"I'll have a basin of hot water and a fire on the hearth," he told the crone.

"Yes, m'lord, as you command." She left. Soon some thralls came to bring the water and light the braziers. When his face and hands were clean enough he put on some new clean clothes and went to meet his father.

When he reached the door of the solar he could hear his father's voice, so he guessed that Asha was already there. He knocked the door and a guard showed him in. He entered and found the king seated by the fire, talking with his daughter.

"Father, I am not asking you to risk everything you have achieved, nor to start another war," Asha was saying in an insistent voice that hinted that they had been arguing over that matter for a long time. "The only thing I ask is that you let us plunder the Westerlands. Our ancestors have done it countless times. Besides, you have always claimed you did not rebel against Robert Baratheon for a crown, but to bring the old ways back. Why do you deny your own children the rights for which you fought so fiercely?"

The prince could not help but admire his sister then. Her logic was irrefutable, and their father had no reason to refuse. The king sighed and opened his mouth to answer, but then Theon decided to approach both lifted their eyes when they heard the sound of his boots on the stone steps.

"Your sister has told me you wish to raid the westerlands," his father told him, without even a greeting. "I have already won a war, and I have no wish to risk everything I achieved by fighting in another one. I won't declare war against the Lannisters, yet if you wish to help your little friend and reap some Lannister gold you are free to go and take whatever you want from them. I shall give twenty ships from the Iron Fleet to you and another twenty to Asha. You can go wherever you like, and see what you can bring back."

"I thank you, father," Theon bowed, with a pleased smile on his face. That was everything he wanted, and it had been so easy to get.

"I have done you no favor you should thank me for, Theon. Now you shall leave. I will speak with Victarion tomorrow and see what ships you can take with you.

"You should also speak to Aeron," Asha added. Seeing her father and brother's puzzled looks she added, wittingly, "He has got a wedding to preside over."


	14. Arya

**NA:** This chapter takes place, again, many months after the previous one. In that time, many things happened differently from the books, as a consequence of some characters' decisions. Robb was wounded in a battle and Jeyne Westerling took care of him, but as Theon didn't betray him, he was never falsely told that his brothers were dead, and he didn't feel so vulnerable and in such need of affection to fall in love with her and break his promise to the Lord of the Crossing.

 **Arya**

She had been uncertain of the Hound's plan at first, but in the end everything had turned out quite well. The guard at the gates had believed him when he introduced himself as a farmer and, without so much as glancing at them, he had told them to leave their pork in the kitchen. They had walked the direction they were told, but when they reached the door that was supposed to be the kitchen's he just left the casks on the floor and turned back.

"What are you doing," Arya complained. "We are supposed to leave that in the kitchen."

"Never mind what we are meant to do, girl. It's the hall we want to go to, not the kitchen."

He started to walk in quick strides, and she almost had to run to follow and keep up with him. Sandor didn't need to ask for directions: the deafening music guided them well enough. They had to climb some stairs and walk through a corridor, but fortunately nobody saw them in their way. There was another guard in the hall's door, though, and he stopped them as soon as he saw them. He told them to go away, whoever they were.

"I won't go," the Hound told him, unsheathing his sword. "Either you will let me in, or else I'll go in on my own, and kill anything that stands in my way. Do you wish to die tonight, or would you prefer to let me in?"

The guard stared at him in silence, considering his options. Arya thought that he had none: he had a sword too, but he didn't seem very strong; he was a rather old man, he had slim arms and he carried no shield to block any blow. The music was also too loud for him to be able to call for help, and if he even tried to do so, the Hound would just run his sword through his chest on the spot. With his eyes wide with fear he stepped back and opened the door for them.

The hall was specially decorated for the occasion, and there were Frey and Stark banners hanging everywhere. There were many tables full of richly dressed knights, lords and ladies, most of them of House Frey. All of them were either too deep in conversation or too drunk to even notice their entrance, but Sandor would take no risks. "Hurry up! We need to find your mother before any other bloody guard sees us. Follow me, look down and don't say a word until I tell you. Not even when I talk to your mother," he grunted.

Arya knew why he wanted her to keep quiet: if she spoke up before he could explain himself, her mother wouldn't know that he was actually bringing her back to her family, and she wouldn't pay him for his service. She didn't think he deserved anything: she could very well have got there by herself and, besides, she was never going to forgive him for killing Mycah. But it would do her no good to tell the Hound that right then, so she just nodded quietly and followed him.

Her brother Robb was seated at the center of the high table, talking to a pretty brown-haired lady who sat next to him. Mother was to his right and Arya though there was a smile on her face as she regarded Robb and his bride. Robb's friend, Theon, sat between the Frey girl and Sansa, and was talking very excitedly to his betrothed about some battle he had fought as she smiled foolishly and looked at him wide-eyed with awe and amazement.

"Lady Stark," the Hound called out. "I've got something for you."

Her mother looked up at him and Arya could see her eyes go cold and hard as steel as they met his. "I don't know what you came for, but as far as I know you were not invited to my son's wedding and you have no business here. Unless you want me to call the guards on you, I suggest that you leave immediately."

"I'll leave soon enough, if you don't take me in your guard," the Hound replied, nonchalant to Lady Catelyn's response. "The only thing I demand is that you pay me for my service. Some fifteen golden dragons will do."

"I owe you nothing, ser. Leave now, or I shall call my son's men."

"Mother, what's going on?" Robb asked.

"This man over there came here uninvited and demands that I pay him for no reason at all."

"For no reason at all?" Sandor snorted. "I bring you back the girl you are making all this war and fuss about, and you say it's nothing at all?"

"What girl are you talking about?" Robb asked, puzzled.

" _Princess Arya, of House Stark_ ," he mocked.

"I am _not_ a princess!" Arya shouted at him.

"Arya? Is it really you?" Her mother asked, noticing her presence for the first time and giving her an appraising look. Arya moved closer and looked up at her. "Oh, child, where have you been? I've missed you so much! I was so worried… Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I have been travelling for a long time. I wanted to go to Winterfell, but the Hound said it would be quicker to come here." Telling the whole story would take her a long time, and she did not think this was the moment for that. Besides, she couldn't tell her mother that she had killed a stableboy, feigned to be a boy and fought in a battle, or could she? "May I sit with you?"

"Of course, my dear. You can sit here, next to me," her mother offered. Then she turned to the Hound. "I might have been hasty to judge you. You shall have the ransom you asked for, and a place in my son's guard, if you would take it."

"I'll take your ransom, and the post that you offer me."

Her lady mother took some gold off her purse and gave it to Sandor. Then she excused herself and left the table. Sansa and Robb asked her a thousand of questions concerning her whereabouts and the way she had got there, but fortunately they didn't expect any long answer, and she could get away with giving them very little information.

Presently her mother returned, accompanied by a plump, dark-haired man with a pointed beard. "Lothar, this man," she told him, pointing at the Hound, "is called Sandor Clegane, and he shall be my son's man-at-arms from this day on. Could you escort him to the pavilions with the rest of His Grace's men?" When the plump man nodded she continued. "I would also require you to find some clean gown for a girl of about ten. Surely there is some girl that age at The Twins?"

"There is more than one, my lady. Yet why would you need it for? Is there anything wrong with your daughter's dress?" He asked, eyeing Sansa, whose pretty green dress was spotlessly neat.

"Princess Sansa's dress is fine," she answered cautiously. "But my other daughter, Arya, has just come here unannounced, and she is not properly dressed for her brother and king's wedding."

"I see…" he said as he regarded Arya with astonishment. "I shall find something for her. Follow me, Ser Sandor."

"I am not a knight," the Hound said, but he followed all the same.

After a while Lothar reappeared with a pretty light blue dress for her and he led her to an empty room so that she could get changed. She put it on and then returned to the feast, ready to have dinner with her family. She sat next to her mother and helped herself to some meat, but she had barely tasted it when everyone got quiet and Lord Walder Frey spoke.

"My dear guests, I hope you are enjoying the feast," he said. "Soon enough will be the time of the bedding, and everyone here shall have the chance to laugh at His Grace for once, without causing offense. But before that, there's an announcement I'd like to make. I have been informed that we have an unexpected honored guest here: Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell is in this hall. I think it is a perfect time to introduce her to her betrothed: my youngest son, Elmar. Come here, my son."

Arya stared shocked at her mother and her brother. She couldn't have been promised to some boy without her even knowing about it. Her mother loved her, in spite of everything, and she wouldn't do something like that to her… Or so she had believed. Her lady mother made no complaint and did not deny the betrothal. She looked uncomfortable when she met Arya's eyes and mouthed something that the girl could not hear, but she thought it was an apology.

Arya glared at the boy who had stood up and approached his father, and she was all the more angry when she recognized him. "I am not going to marry that stupid boy!" She yelled, ignoring the nervous glances of her family, the offended eyes of the boy and the amused faces of most of the other Freys. "He's a conceited, coward, ungrateful fool, and I _hate_ him!"

"But why do you say so? Princess Arya, you don't even _know_ me! You can't hate me yet."

"Yes, I _do_ know you, Elmar. And you know me, but you're too stupid to remember."

"Arya! Stop talking like that! The boy has done nothing to you," her lady mother scolded her.

"Remind me, then," Elmar demanded. "Where have we met, my princess?"

"I am not yours! And I am not a princess!" Arya said, annoyed. Why didn't anyone understand that? "We met at Harrenhal, when you squired for Lord Roose Bolton."

"But you weren't there!" The boy exclaimed. "Lord Bolton, please tell them!"

"As far as I know, the princess was never in Harrenhal while I held the castle," he confirmed.

"But I was. You didn't know because I didn't tell you who I was. I was Nan, the serving girl. I was the weasel who served the soup."

There was a silence, as the boy stared at her shocked, Lord Bolton abstained from saying anything and the other ones present were too puzzled to utter a word. In the end, Elmar dropped his gaze shyly and in shame, and he mumbled, "But you… you never told me. If I had known that you were my betrothed, my princess…"

"I couldn't tell you. The Lannisters could have retaken Harrenhal, and in that case, if I had said who I was, I would now be back in King's Landing, locked in some cell. And it makes no matter who I am. You shouldn't be rude to people just because they don't have castles."

"Well, Your Grace," Lord Walder Frey addressed Robb. "It seems your sister is unwilling to marry my son. She's a willful child, it would seem. But it makes no matter: we can make another arrangement, to make up for this failure."

"I would gladly consent to another match, my lord. What do you suggest?" Robb asked him.

"My eldest son is dead and my second son is married, but my third son, ser Aenys, happens to be a widower. I think he'd be glad to remarry, you know? And it might be that your mother can find some happiness again with another man."

Arya looked at her lady mother. This was horrible. Why should she get married again, with a man she didn't love? She would not like it any more than Arya did, surely. But Catelyn was brave and dutiful, and she agreed to the match. She sacrificed herself for Arya, for Robb and for the kingdom of the North.

After that, there were only a few minutes before the bedding, and there was not much talk in her table. Everybody's spirits had lowered considerably after that exchange. However, Arya could hear that Robb whispered to her mother "Don't worry, mother. You won't have to live at The Twins for long, I promise. I shall have a keep built for you in the North, and you will be able to move there with your new husband as soon as it's ready. And you will be near Winterfell, so that you can visit us anytime…"

The Lord of the Crossing interrupted him then and called for the bedding. As the guests undressed the King in the North and his bride, Arya hoped that her brother would remember his promise. Their mother deserved better than that shabby dark castle ruled by that horrible Lord Frey.


	15. Sansa II

**AN:** Again, this happens many months after the previous chapter, in Winterfell. The war continues, Robb's wife gets pregnant and, at the Wall, the threat of the Others becomes even more dangerous.

 **Sansa**

"When do you think Mother will come back?" Rickon asked yet again as all the Starks who remained in Winterfell had breakfast together.

"It shall be soon, I think," Sansa assured. "One of the towers is almost ready. I guess it won't be more than a moon's turn before it gets finished. Then she can come and stay there, until they repair the rest of it." Sansa had ridden to Moat Cailin a fortnight before, to supervise its rebuilding at maester Luwin's request, so her guess was well-founded.

"And Robb?" Bran asked now. "When is _he_ coming back?"

"After he takes King's Landing, I think," Roslin answered this time. "He does not wish to rule the Seven Kingdoms, but he will need to take the city to get the justice he seeks. As soon as he gets the Lannisters to pay their debts to House Stark, I think he will return to us."

"But how will he take King's Landing, if he's in the Westerlands taking castles? Why does he not move forth?" Arya complained.

"He _is_ moving forth," Roslin confided, lowering her voice as though she feared some Lannister spy would hear if she spoke too loudly. "He is marching to Harrenhal, and that castle is very near the crownlands. He didn't send ravens because they might be intercepted, and he does not wish Cersei to know of his plans until he is ready to attack. Theon Greyjoy is now creating a diversion and besieging Casterly Rock. He sent us a raven last week, saying that Robb had finally parted from him and was in his way to the capital."

"Do you think he can come back before the baby is born?" Rickon wanted to know.

Sansa would rather her brother not to have asked that question in the Queen's presence. Roslin and Sansa had become close as sisters, which in fact they were. They sometimes gossiped, took walks together and went riding to the winter town with Arya. They trusted each other with their secrets and preoccupations, so Sansa knew that Roslin was worried about that. She prayed every day, both to the old gods in the godswood and to the seven in the sept, for her husband to return. She feared that her child might have to grow up fatherless. The thought of Robb dying without ever making it back home haunted her sleep.

"He might," Sansa answered kindly but firmly her younger brother's question. "But if he doesn't, that will not be a problem. When the baby grows up, he won't remember whether Robb was here or not on the day he was born."

"That's so," Roslin said, giving Sansa a grateful smile. "Well, children, if you are done with your breakfast, I think Ser Rodrik is waiting for you in the yard."

The first to take her leave was Arya. Ser Rodrik had been reluctant to train her at first, but she had claimed that her father would let her, and that he had already hired a braavosi swordsman to teach her in King's Landing. The only proof she had was what she had learned, but that had been enough. Sansa had recently asked the master-at-arms about her progress, just like their mother would ask Septa Mordane about their needlework when they were little, and he had said that he was pleased and quite surprised by Arya's improvement.

Rickon rose soon after her and ran to his classes too. He was five now, hardly old enough to grip a wooden sword properly, but he was already very excited to learn and take lessons with his older siblings. Sansa had asked about him too, and Ser Rodrik said that he was doing quite well for a boy so young. He was strong and fierce, and he loved his classes well.

Bran was the last to finish, and he bid Hodor carry him to the stables. Sansa was proud of his little brother. Even all this time after his fall, he was determined to become a knight. He was learning archery, and he practiced atop Dancer, his mare. He was brave, stubborn and a dreamer, and Sansa just wished that his dreams would one day come true.

When the ladies were left alone, they decided to take a walk around the castle. Roslin wanted to go to the grass gardens to see the new winter roses that had just started to bloom, and Sansa was happy with the idea too. Lady came along with them, walking just some steps before them.

"They are beautiful flowers, the winter roses. We don't have them at the Twins," Roslin said when they came into the warm garden.

"That's a pity. We have plenty of them here, though. You can come and see them whenever you wish."

"Do they always grow here? Even in winter?"

"I don't know," Sansa had to admit. She had never seen a winter, as she was born the past spring. "I hope they do. It would be sad if all the flowers just died in winter."

"Yes, it would be sad," Roslin agreed. Sansa saw that she looked very pale and her forehead was shining with sweat, in spite of the cold.

"Are you well, Your Grace?" Sansa asked her.

"Yes, I think it's just the morning sickness." She squatted down and lowered her head. "Please look away, my dear. If anything, this will be unpleasant to look at."

Sansa did as Roslin told her and held her breath, so she saw and smelled nothing, but she did hear the regurgitating sound. When it was done she held out her hand to her sister-in-law and helped her to her feet. "It might be just morning sickness, as you say, but I would ask maester Luwin about it nonetheless. He might have something he can give you for that."

"Very well, princess. A visit to the maester won't hurt."

So they walked through the courtyard to the maester's tower, and they could see the children training. Bran was mounted twenty feet away from his mark, and still he hit it more often than not, judging by the arrows that were piercing it and the few ones scattered in the ground around it. Rickon was trying to strike Ser Rodrik with his wooden sword, and failing. Arya was training with Lady Meera Reed, a girl who had come with her brother for the harvest feast a long time ago but had decided to stay in Winterfell well after that, to Arya and Bran's delight.

They found maester Luwin walking out of his turret. He bowed when he saw them and stopped in front of them. He seemed to have been looking for them too. "Maester Luwin, may we ask you something?" Sansa asked.

"Certainly, my princess."

"Roslin is not feeling very well of late. She says she has morning sickness. Do you have anything that might help her?"

"Well, normally some small doses of milk of the poppy help with that," the maester said. "Would you be so kind as to join me in my solar, Your Grace? It's not to give you the medicine; its effect won't last a whole day, so I'll have to give it to you after dinner. I want to talk to you because a raven has arrived, and I think you should read the letter it brought us." Roslin thanked him and nodded. Sansa was about to leave them, but Luwin stopped her. "Princess Sansa, I think you should come too."

Inside, Luwin sat down on his chair and bid them do the same. "Where did the raven come from?" Queen Roslin asked as she took her seat.

"It came from the Wall," the maester replied gravely. "Maester Aemon had sent one some time ago, when you were all at the Twins for the wedding. He warned that there was a terribly strong and dangerous threat north of the wall, and he begged for the help of the King in the North. I thought the watch was merely having trouble with Mance Rayder, the king-beyond-the-Wall. We didn't have men to spare. There were barely enough to man the castle. I decided to ignore the letter, then, and wait for the war to be over. If Mance Rayder continued to cause trouble after that, Robb could see to him then, I thought…" Luwin sighed. "Now I know I was wrong."

"Maester Luwin, what is it?" Sansa asked, suddenly worried. "Who sent this letter? What does it say?"

"This letter, my princess, is from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, your brother Jon Snow. As to what it says, I cannot bring myself to repeat it. I think it would be better if you read it yourself."

She picked the parchment from the desk and read the lines slowly. She shivered. What she read was horribly dreadful, and beyond her scariest nightmare.

"What is it, my dear?" Queen Roslin asked concerned. "You are shaking."

Sansa couldn't find the words to explain it or her voice to say them. She handed her the letter, letting her half-brother do it instead. Sansa looked at her sister-in-law as she read, and she saw her eyes go wider with every word. "This can't be true," Roslin muttered, but there was uncertainty in her voice.

"I thought the same at the beginning, when the wildling woman Osha said it first," Luwin said. "Yet it now seems that she was right from the start. Jon wouldn't have written this letter if he was not in serious trouble."

"But, what should we do?" Sansa asked, frightened. If the Others somehow managed to breach the Wall, the North would be the first place to be attacked. "We don't have men to send to the Wall. Robb has taken most of them south..."

"He has, but the Wall doesn't need men," maester Luwin replied. "Here Jon says he has convinced the wildlings to fight by his side. They are already more than the Watch has had in centuries. More than he can feed, most likely."

"Is it food that we should send him, then?"

"Food, warm clothes and weapons. They will have sore need of them this winter. If it is harsh here, there it will be worse. And they will be fighting dead foes. They don't feel exhaustion, thirst, hunger or cold as living men do, and they are unyielding enemies."

"We should get the smiths to work and make new weapons, then. And we can work to make some gloves and scarfs. We can send some food too, or maybe gold, so that they can buy it themselves," Roslin suggested.

"I think that would be a good idea," Sansa agreed. "I could ride with Arya and an escort to the Wall to take it. I think he will be happy to see us, after all this time. And we could write to Robb and tell him to take his army to the Wall after he takes King's Landing."

"You can go to the Wall to help Jon and the Night's Watch, my princess, but it would be best if you did not write to Robb yet. He will not be able to do anything until he defeats the Lannisters, so it will do no good to worry him."

They told Arya and Bran of the news that very evening. Arya was shocked and scared, but also thrilled by the prospect of seeing her brother again. Bran was frustrated for being left behind. He insisted that he should be allowed to go to the Wall and see Jon too. As Sansa wasn't especially eager to go there, she told Bran that he could go instead of her if maester Luwin agreed.


End file.
